Inaccessed Memory
by DetectiveTective
Summary: Three years before the death of Al Mualim... and ten years after Altair saved the girl from Jerusalem, Altira lives life like an assassin, yet she claims she despises them, despite the fact that she was saved by one. So many questions! Better sum. inside!
1. Better Summary

**DT: Here is the summary for my story. Also, for those who have been reading my story already, you may want to go and take a look through some of my chapters again. I've edited them over and over again, so they should be much better than before. lol. Plus, with the edits, I've also improvised my descriptions, where you learn a little bit more about my characters' backgrounds and their personalities. For those newcomers, read on. **

* * *

Altira... the runaway princess of Jerusalem and greatest thief ever to live in the city of Damascus…now has her dark past exposed! Three years before the death of Al Mualim... and ten years _after_ Altair's first rescue mission of the princess Larita, a twist of unexpected fate brings the two elites back together... but conflicting problems from the past prevent Altira from ever loving her spiteful rescuer. Altair has a great deal of trouble with her, and her vengeful intentions are nothing to smirk at. Being of both equal skill and ability, the two are oftentimes holding blades to each other's throats. Secret organizations watch attentively to see who will come out on top. Watch (or read about) them and see the two unravel a mystery behind the death of a grand merchant king, —slaughtered by an unknown threat—and defend against the most hated nation in the Kingdom: The Templar Knights. Will they stand victorious... or will they fail due to rehashing the past? Can Altira admit to love or will she kill Altair out of anger and frustration… or will _he_ kill _her _instead?


	2. Prologue

A small, female child ran drastically through the poor streets of Jerusalem. Her body and face, excluding her eyes, were entirely covered with large, tattered rags. She started panting heavily.

"Help!" She cried, "Someone please help!" The girl turned her head to see behind her, but only for a second, as she continued to run. The child pushed many citizens out of her way, nearly tripping over herself in the process.

"Kill the thief!" shouted male, angry voices from behind her, "Return what you have stolen from us!"

"Catch the thief!" came more voices from behind, "Kill that thief!"

The small girl could still hear their ominous threats as she ran endlessly. Suddenly, a person rushed out from the midst of a corner as the girl accidentally (but violently) bumped into the person, falling flat on her face. She quickly got up once the violent voices drew nearer. She made a swift right turn into a dark alleyway... which turned out to be a very unwise decision. It didn't take long before the little girl reached a dead end.  
Shocked and out of breath, she turned around and locked eyes with the very men who were chasing her.

Five men. Three, of which, carried blunt objects.  
The other two with swords.  
The little girl slowly backed up against the wall. She whimpered and shut her eyes as she waited for the worst to come.

"Damn thief," said one of the men with a blunt object, "You will **_die_** where you stand!"

The other men chuckled, and grinned evilly as they closed in on her.  
But suddenly, out of nowhere, a knife became lodged in the man's throat. The girl looked up at the other fiends, stopped dead in their tracks. Then, four _other _men dropped out of the sky and landed in front of the girl. All were dressed in the same, white attire, with an unusual set of weapons on their backs.

"We'll take care of these men, Altair," said one of the white-hooded men on the right, "Just get the girl out of here!"

The small child was bewildered by her white-robed rescuers. Who in their right mind would want to save her? Or better yet, how did they know where to find her? She snapped out of her thoughts when the robed boy known as Altair slowly made his way to her. The frightened girl stared at him fearfully, trying desperately not to shake or tremble. He stretched out a friendly hand toward her, but she quickly smacked it away.

"K... keep away from me!" she muttered with a small whimper, "I... I-I do not need your help!"

"But were you not calling for help just a moment ago?" he replied with a low, welcoming voice, "And even so, from the looks of things, you really do need it."

Again, he stretched his hand towards her.

'How did he know that?' she thought with her gaze fixated on his palm, 'He must be insane to think that I would go along with him!'

She glanced back towards the violent fight now taking place. The men clashed both swords and blunts together with such ferocity and tension, the child could feel it from where she stood. She redirected her gaze toward the smaller robed boy in front of her and noticed that his hand had never left its position. She cursed under her breath, knowing what she had to do.  
If she didn't leave immediately, she would only be putting herself in more danger.  
So, summoning up all her courage, she stretched out her hand towards Altair's. With a wide smirk, he grabbed her arm and placed it around his neck. Startled, the child placed another arm around him.

"Hold on," he said before scaling up the vertical wall.

The girl's eyes went wide as she watched him climb higher and higher above the ground. The floor became so distant; it felt as though it were all a dream. But reality settled back in once they reached the top of the building. Slowly, the girl slid her arms from the boy's neck, feeling at ease once her feet touched solid ground.

She glanced at his athletic build with a fearful but impressed look. She wondered how someone so young could be so well fit! Altair noticed and smirked at her inquisitive stare. Feeling embarrassed, she folded her arms and broke their gaze.

"And now," he laughed, "Where to?"

To the boy's surprise, the girl smirked then commenced to ripping off her tattered rags, revealing vast, rich clothes underneath.

It was nothing like he had ever seen…

Bright, shining diamonds and colorful jewels were sewn firmly into the fabric. He stared at each glittering piece as it shone with brilliance under the Sun. Altair was quite impressed with its design. His eyes crawled up her body, examining each piece, until he set his eyes on her face.

A perfect image: soft and long, black hair, with bold, large brown eyes, and naturally dark eyelashes. Her skin looked very clean and healthy, full of life and energy. Altair could see no flaws on her face. Even her nose and lips were just right!

"My name is Larita Aminath," she said suddenly, breaking his train of thought, "I am the daughter of the Merchant King Mehmet Aminath."

"Oh, a _princess_, are you?" Altair replied, "Well then, _Princess_ Larita, I presume you live in the rich district, yes?"

"Is it not obvious that I am not of these people, peasant?"

"_Is it not obvious_ that calling someone a 'peasant' is rude?"

"It does not matter. The rich can do whatever they please."

"Well maybe the poor and unfortunate should leave the rich on this roof for however long _they please_." Altair smirked slyly, enjoying the awkward conversation.

"You wouldn't _dare_!" Larita challenged, her eyes wide from surprise.

Altair said nothing. He crossed his arms and stared at her, still holding up his smirk. "Alright, fine," Larita scoffed, growing impatient, "So then what shall I call you? _My rescuer_?"

"No, there will be no need for that," he chuckled, "I do have a name, you know."

"_Enlighten me_," Larita replied annoyed, "What do your white-robed friends call you, _my rescuer_?"

"I am much more than a simple rescuer, _small child_. My name is Altair Ibn La-Ahad, the Flying Eagle and The Son of None. I am the savior of citizens and a man of great deeds; an assassin who—"

"Assassin?" the girl gasped with fear, "What do you mean by, 'assassin'?"

"N-nothing." He stammered quickly.  
He couldn't believe how foolish he was for saying something so reckless, though bragging tended to be a habit for him.

"Forget what I said," he continued, "I have already given you a name and that should be enough."

"Ah, but you see, _that isn't_ enough. Now I am more interested in what it is exactly that you do. How am I to be sure that I'm not in the hands of some lunatic?"

"How are you to be sure that I won't kill you..." he mumbled secretively, but the girl's hearing was quite good.

"I _knew_ it!" She exclaimed, "I _knew y_ou were an—!"

"Enough!" Altair boasted, strongly resisting the urge to shout.

Larita shuddered at his voice and began taking a few steps away from him. Altair scoffed then turned away. He walked towards the roof's edge, peering down at how high up they were from the ground.

"So," Larita started, "What are you then? A scholar perhaps?"

Altair didn't answer. He stayed in his position, staring at the ground. Larita's impatience soon got the better of her as she took a few steps closer to him.

"Do not ignore me, Altai—!"

He suddenly grabbed her arm, being ever so careful with the fine jewels that seemed to be everywhere in the fabric, and pulled her close to him. She stared at him angrily, but a small amount of blush soon appeared across her cheeks once she saw his sly smile. Altair continued to stare at her for a moment or two longer before he tightened his hold on her. Now frightened out of her wits, Larita tried to pull free from his grip, but his hands only clenched her tighter as he threw her off the rooftop! She screamed loudly as she landed safely in a rather large haystack. Altair followed in after her. Larita then quickly jumped out of the haystack, quite shaken. She held her chest with her hand, feeling her wild heart beat furiously. She turned to face the haystack as Altair slowly made his way out, perfectly fine.

"I can't _believe _you just did that!" she shouted, still shaking, "What on earth is wrong with you?"

Altair smirked. "I made sure it was safe for her _royal highness_," He said coolly.

"You are _insane_!" she yelled with a burning fire in her eyes.

Altair shrugged, causing her to growl. Larita had grown so impatient with him that she suddenly clenched her fists and charged straight for him! But the look in his eyes sent chills down her spine, forcing her to stop her actions.

How could she possibly win against this… this man… this assassin? She relaxed her fists, not wanting to pick a fight here and now.

"Altair, I am in no mood to be toyed with." She growled, "Take me to the palace **_at once_**! And please do be quick about it! My father worries about me greatly."

"It would be a great burden off your father's chest if you'd stop wandering into the other districts, '_princess_.'" he replied, "It would save us assa—scholars a lot of trouble."

They continued on for about a mile or so until they found themselves in front of the largest and most prestigious-looking palace in all of Jerusalem. Large diamonds and jewelry, very similar to the ones on Larita's garments, were embedded firmly along the walls that framed the entrance inside the palace. It seemed only natural to Altair for so many guards to stand watch over them in front of the entrance. He watched the Saracens stand tall and proud, blocking the only entrance inside.

"I am not sure that these guards will let us through..." Altair stated simply.

"Nonsense!" said Larita, "Why would they not let us in! I'm the princess after all!"

"That's true, but I would not be allowed in the entrance... no matter _what _you say to them."

"Well then, what do you propose we should do?"

"Make an alternative route. Hold on tight!"

With that said, Larita clung tightly to Altair as he ran to the left side of the gate. He then climbed up an old scaffolding as the people began to stare at them with wonder and amazement. Larita glanced down at her fellow citizens, full of embarrassment and amusement for seeing their eyes locked on the two of them. Altair then jumped onto the edge of a horizontal beam, hung directly above the guards. They remained silent and unnerved from what was beyond their sight. Altair, still balancing on the beam (**and** holding on to Larita), turned towards the gate's interior. From this point on, he could see lively movement going on within its walls... as well as four other beams leading further into the palace. He leapt quickly and carefully before gently dropping to the floor. More people began to stare at him, confused but quite amazed. Larita let go of Altair, trying to regain her balance.

"I'll take it from here, Altair." she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "The other assa- scholars left you in my care."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I can reach the upper level of the palace on my own."

"Well I am most certainly impressed. You can find your way around this enormous place so well for someone only seven years of age."

"I'm ten, dammit!" she retorted.

"My apologies, princess," he bowed respectfully, "I am also not that young, fifteen to be precise, but I have never once stepped foot inside the palace." He paused briefly, staring at the fire in her large and gorgeous eyes. "Fine," he said finally, "Do what you want. But first..."

He then leaned forward toward Larita and kissed her on the cheek. She stood there frozen as she watched Altair the "scholar" leap atop the side wall, free of "luggage," and disappear out of sight through the same way they came in. Larita slowly made her way to the palace's upper level, smiling and humming a tune she made up herself. However, upon reaching the upper level of the palace, she froze with horror and screamed. Several guards rushed towards the screaming girl, swords drawn, but soon, they too stood still with shock and horror of what lay before their eyes.

It was a man lying face-up, bloodied and tattered on the ground. From what was left of his slashed clothes, were fine jewelries, similar to Larita's. The rest were covered in slashes and long streaks of blood, the more hideous gashes were on his legs and lower torso. On his upper torso there was a confusing pattern of slashes, as if the killer had left his signature on the body. The murmuring between the guards soon took off.

"**Father!**" Larita screamed, tears running down her face.

She rushed toward his dead body and hugged him tightly as the guards talked with each other in hushed whispers. When Larita released her father's body, she turned to face the murmuring guards. She had a look so full of spite and hatred that the guards didn't know what to expect.

"How could you let this happen?" she shrieked, "You are the palace's most elite guards! How could you let this happen to my **_FATHER?_**"

The guards fell silent.

"At ease, Miss Aminath," came a peculiar voice from behind.

Larita turned around, as did the guards, who eventually backed out of the way and bowed respectfully to the person.  
"He was a very brave man, your father, standing up to the assassins," he continued, "Such a brave man..."

'Assassins?' Her mind spun uncontrollably, 'There must be a mistake... this can't be right! This _has _to be a lie! It _has _to be!'

The man had quite a few layers of fat beneath his chin and had an ugly appearance in his face. He was of Arabic descent, but his obesity didn't help much on that fact **(DT: no, that is not Abu'l)**. His clothes were of far more royalty than Larita's, bearing the most jewels and the most eccentric fabric design.

"We didn't know what those bastard assassins wanted, but it would seem that they only favored your father's life."

Larita's eyes widened once hearing this. And still, the guards were silent.

"This isn't right..." she mumbled before repeating, "This isn't **_RIGHT!_**"

She then ran off, pushing the guards out of her way, making a rush for the city.

"Oh, she'll be back..." the obese man said confidently, "She hasn't got any more relatives, nor does she know her way around the city. She's got nowhere to run to. Soon, she'll realize her vulnerability, then come crawling back to me!"

The other guards were not so sure. They knew Larita's father well, and shared the same sympathy for her, as her father did.  
Hours went by and still Larita hadn't returned. Some of the guards, with the most worry, even left their guard posts to go off and search for her. However, they were severely punished when they got back.

The sun faded quickly in Jerusalem and _still _the guards hadn't found hide or hair of Larita. Eventually, the guards gave up for the night and decided to try again the next day.  
And the next day came to pass.  
No Larita.  
And three days went by.  
No Larita.  
And then a week passed.  
No Larita.  
A month.  
Still no Larita.

The palace guards feared what would become of Larita... or if she was even alive after all the time that had passed. But the suspicions died off when they all came to the same conclusion of her disappearance. Even the obese man from before was starting to have his doubts.

"Oh well," he would mumble to himself, "Guess I will have to find another..."  
And then a long, unpleasant ten years had passed, the runaway girl dead and her father buried  
And then the start of the Crusades were on the rise...

* * *

**DT: Yeah, I know I redid the prologue AGAIN, but seriously, it was bad. It was long overdue for it. lol. So please R&R cuz I think it's MUCH better now! Thank you! ^.^**


	3. Hidden Blade

"Altair... once again, you have proven yourself to me, and to your fellow assassins, that you can handle _any _assignment given to you!" said an old and content man.

"I thank you, master Al Mualim." Altair replied in a voice deepened with maturity.  
The elder known as Al Mualim looked upon Altair with an enthusiastic expression on his face. He was equipped with an enormous, bronze-like belt, folded atop his white tunic. A large black robe with a hood and crimson red outline was placed overtop all of this while his grayish-white beard sagged from the hood.

Altair looked slightly different as well. His mysterious, white-hooded appearance remained the same, but his arsonry had increased. A bronze belt, equipped with knives, was wrapped around his waist (same as Al Mualim's), and his long and sheathed sword rested on his left hip. A sheathed short-sword was tied firmly to his back, as well as extra throwing knives, tied on his right shoulder.

Altair stood proud and tall as he watched his master smile at him. He could tell that the row of assassins behind him seldom see their master smile this way.

"Truly you are a talented assassin like no other," Al Mualim continued, "And we all regard your skill highly."

"So does this mean that I am accepted... into the Brotherhood?" Altair asked anxiously.

Al Mualim chuckled softly. "But of course," he stated simply, "_Of course_ you are accepted into the Brotherhood, Altair..."  
The young assassin was thrilled, but his spine began to quiver when his master's demeanor suddenly changed as he continued, "However, I want to offer you a sort of… proposition… an opportunity if you will."

"An opportunity for what…" Altair asked hesitantly.

"…for power!" Al Mualim's voice deepened upon saying those two words.  
Altair paused briefly before muttering, "What must be done?"

"It is quite simple, my student," replied Al Mualim, "All youmust do is replace your ring finger with another."

Altair raised an eyebrow at this.

"Replace my finger with another?" he repeated, puzzled, "What do you mean by this, master?"

"You would find it quite useful in your future endeavors," Al Mualim replied.

"But… who would be foolish enough to have one's finger cut off?"

There was a brief and uneasy moment of silence between them.

"And why not?" the master finally spoke, "Is it because you fear my request? This is quite strange to me… for someone who fears no man, he certainly is quite frightened to lose one, simple finger! Pardon _my _opinion, but _that _seems mighty foolish."

"I _do not_ fear anything!" the young assassin replied, quite offended.

"Prove it, Altair. You've got a lot of talk in you, but can you put talk into _action_?"

The master's quick wit made Altair clench his fists.

"I'll ask again, Altair," Al Mualim continued slowly, "Will you give up your ring finger for this?"  
He then pulled out an odd-looking contraption from his long, draping robe. It was obviously designed for the arm, but its appearance bewildered Altair... and yet, at the same time, it amused him. He simply could not take his eyes off it.  
He wanted it  
He knew that he just _**had **_to have it!  
He almost reached out to touch it.

"What is _that_?" he asked curiously, "Surely _that _isn't what-"

"Do you accept my offer or deny it?" said Al Mualim in a stern yet annoyed tone.

Altair stood silent, once again, unsure of what to say. But once Al Mualim started to return the contraption to his robe, he knew that time ran short.

"I…" Altair started hesitantly, "I accept the offer…"

Al Mualim's face suddenly lit up with excitement as he laid the contraption on his desk.  
"I am glad to hear that, Altair," he said

He then pulled out his own sword, staring at it with a strange look on his face. It made Altair nervous.

"Be gone with the rest of you! Except you, Malik." he said firmly.

The one assassin known as Malik stayed quietly in his position, while the other assassins swiftly took their leave of the library. Once they left, Al Mualim continued with his speech.

"Only three witnesses are needed for this." he said, "But before I ensue, Altair, you must first state the three tenets of the Creed."

"Of course, Master." Altair said confidently.

"First and foremost..." Al Mualim started for him.

"Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent."

"Good. Now the second..."

"Hide in plain sight. Blend in with the crowd. It is what gives the assassin strength and cunning."

"And now, the third and final tenet..." Al Mualim's voice became so low and frightening.

"_**Never **_compromise the Brotherhood. We act as one. And as we share our victories, so too must we share our defeats. We keep each other safe from harm and defend each other when we are weak."

"Perfect... absolute perfection!"

The master's wide smile made Altair smile on the inside. The assassin known as Malik, however, looked upon Altair with discontent. His upper lip twitched slightly as he narrowed his eyes at his fellow assassin.

Al Mualim then began chanting several different phrases in Arabic while slowly approaching Altair. He then grabbed Altair's left hand tightly, holding onto his middle and ring finger. He then stopped his chants to look at his student's nervous face.

"Be strong, my child," he began, "For the pain is but a moment..."

Altair started to inhale and exhale quickly and silently, waiting for Al Mualim to relieve him of his finger.  
And he was right.  
The pain was brief for a moment, but Altair had barely flinched. The greatest pain was when the master's sword had severed flesh and bone. The bone, however, wasn't as painful as the flesh, for the master had cut right through its joint. But the exposure of bleeding flesh, moreover, caused the pain. It was quite disturbing to look at a stump for a finger with blood dripping down in thick drops.

Al Mualim then took the contraption in his free hand and slipped it on his arm, which took several minutes because of all the leather straps.

"Now, try to move your hand." he said when he finished.

Altair did as he was told. He flexed his fingers outward and a small but lethal blade had popped up unexpectedly. Altair jumped at the sight of it, but began to relax as he moved the fingers from his other hand across the blade.  
He was quite curious about it.

"What is this, master?" Altair finally managed to say.

"That, Altair, is what I like to call, '_The Hidden Blade_.'" Al Mualim replied, "It is yours now. I'm _very_ proud of you, my student."

Almost instinctively, he flexed his hand a second time and the blade then conceived itself, hidden amongst its casing once more. Altair smirked.  
Oh, what fun he was going to have with this blade!

"Malik," Al Mualim continued, "You know what to do."

Malik then bowed respectfully before telling Altair to follow him. It was only after the two assassins had left the stronghold when Malik said anything.

"Well, 'favorite,' I didn't expect you to go _that _far!" he said curiously and disdainfully at the same time.

"Neither did I..." Altair mumbled.

He flexed his hand again, causing the Hidden Blade to reveal itself. Its prone sharpness kept teasing him to touch it, sliding his fingers across the unused blade. But then he glanced at his stubbed finger. Now, it was a reminder of what he had to go through to get this... this power!  
And oh, what _**fun**_he would have with this blade!

Suddenly a tearing sound reached his ears. He turned towards Malik and saw that he tore off a piece of his assassin's garment. He then took Altair's stubbed finger and wrapped it up the best way he knew how.

"Malik," Altair said quite sarcastically, but shocked as well.

"Don't think of it as much." he retorted in an annoyed tone, "You shouldn't let your finger bleed like that. It will not heal correctly."

Altair nodded in agreement. He had completely forgotten about treating the stub. He was so wrapped up in attaining a power everyone else had feared.  
It was his.  
All his.  
And he would do what he wanted with it.  
No one could take it away from him. It was too—

"Altair," Malik said, "Quit admiring it. We've got more work ahead of us."

"And who are we to target next?"

Malik hesitated a bit. Altair's cockiness really irritated him.  
Sure he was jealous of everything Altair stood for; he was the favorite, the star in his master's eye. And with the Hidden Blade in his possession, there was no telling how far his jealousy would go. Still, he knew Altair had earned it. He spent a long and hard ten years crawling his way to the top, just to become accepted into the Brotherhood. Nevertheless, Malik was continuously irritated knowing that Master Al Mualim overlooked his own talents and instead admired Altair's.  
He was forever kept in the shadows.

"The master requests that we go out into Damascus so you can 'practice' with your blade." he said.

"And is that all?" Altair asked surprised.

"Actually no; he gave the mission to me, but he thinks it would be a good opportunity for you to test it out."

"Well alright then, we should go."

And so, the two assassins left Masayaf on two beautiful horses. Malik's horse was of a gorgeous white color while Altair rode a black horse with a pure white diamond on its forehead.

As they rode into Damascus, avoiding as many guards as possible, they noticed that there were fewer guards than before at the front gate's entrance.

"Well this is strange." said Malik curiously, "But it doesn't matter. Do you want to go in using the old way?"

"You mean that old scholar routine? Heh. I think I can find a more... appealing way."

Altair walked slowly towards a market stand where a guard stood, looking alert for anything suspicious. As Altair made his approach, the guard gave him an angry and annoyed look, something similar to Malik's constant glares.

"What? What is it that you want?" he demanded.

"Blood." Altair muttered lowly.

He then quickly flexed his hand, drawing out the blade, and stabbed the man right in his heart, drawing the man close to his chest in order to muffle his screams. He then withdrew his blade and watched the man stir and twirl before falling flat on his back. Altair smirked as he walked off to the gate's entrance. He looked at the few guards posted at the gate as they all moved, one by one, to the guard's corpse.  
Altair could now walk in with no problem at all.

"I'd get inside quickly if I were you." he said to Malik.

'I could have done that...' thought Malik as he followed Altair past the gate.

They both could hear the few guards drawing out their swords and shouting, "What happened here? Who could have done this?" Then they walked a little faster.

"I need to reach the Bureau to ask about my target," began Malik, "_You_ can do whatever you want. Al Mualim only told me to bring you here; not watch you. A _fine assassin_ such as yourself should find a great pleasure in using that Hidden Blade of yours."

Just at the sound of the two words made Altair flex his hand and call out the blade once more.

But Malik had no time to play around, and he was gone in a whiff, leaving Altair to walk around the city of Damascus by himself. Since he was in the poor district, he saw a lot of people lying in the streets, some with small stone cups in their hands, begging for spare change.

"Beggars," he spat.

The kind of people Altair hated almost as much as he did the Templars was beggars. He knew they meant no harm to anyone, but they were annoying. They just begged. It was all they knew how to do, and it became an idiotic pattern they repeated day in and day out.  
Stand on a corner.  
Wait for someone to pass by.  
Beg them for money.  
Rinse. Repeat.

But now... _now_, with this powerful weapon placed upon his arm, he could silence any that would approach him... and break the first tenet.

No.

No, he couldn't do that. Not after just restating _**all three **_of them to Al Mualim before receiving the darn blade. He flexed his hand again.

'One citizen wouldn't hurt...' He thought childishly, 'No one will ever know...'

But the real question was which one? There were all so many of them in this city, that it was difficult to pick, but before he knew it, he had already entered the major marketplace of Damas.

Perfect.

Altair walked cautiously and slowly, examining every person that walked past him. And then... he saw her!

A woman, standing on the corner of a wall, next to a fish stand, would be his Hidden Blade's first victim. But she seemed quite out of place for a beggar. Unlike most of them, she wore all of her hair out. It was far too rich and plentiful for a beggar's hair. It was shiny, rich, and black, which meant it was well taken care of. And her rags were a bit... odd too. No dirt or tears shown at the bottom of her dress. It was still old, but nothing like the clothes Altair had seen on the others. Nevertheless, he still thought of her as a beggar, and she needed to die. He just had to wait for the right moment. He approached her slowly, watching her beg from other people, but once she caught his eye, she stood to face him.

'Quite an odd stranger...' she thought, 'Maybe _he's _got something of value.'

She quickly went in front of him, stopped him, and started to beg.

'Ten seconds...' Altair thought, 'That's all I need before I strike...'

One.  
The girl continued to beg as she scanned the man.  
Two.  
'He doesn't seem to be carrying anything of value on him.' she thought.  
Three.  
She began to notice the other things on him.  
Four.  
She saw the sheathed sword on his left hip  
Five.  
She saw the tip of his sheathed short-sword on his back.  
Six.  
She saw the knives set atop his shoulder.  
Seven.  
'Uh-oh,' she thought, 'Is he one of those... wait. What is that?'  
Eight.  
She saw his Hidden Blade, extended beneath his fist. The blade was placed right in front of his missing finger. 'Now _that _looks like something of value!'  
Nine.  
"And now, you die." said Altair.  
Ten! He threw back his left arm, getting ready to strike... and as he drew his blade to her throat, something unexpected happened.

She blocked it.  
She stopped his Hidden Blade with her hand.

The blade was caught between her middle and ring finger. It had sliced between the fingers which bled tremendously. Altair's eyes widened. Surely he was mistaken. A simple _**beggar **_couldn't do something like this? But then again… this wasn't an ordinary beggar to begin with!

She pushed him off of her with a great force. Again, Altair was taken aback by the woman, but without much thought when he crashed into a guard. He fell hard on the dusty ground when the guard started yelling at him. But before he could do anything, he heard the guard shouting commands in Arabic at his fellow soldiers to attack him.

Altair was still on the ground by the time they all pulled their swords out, and one was ready to strike the defenseless assassin, but suddenly, the same beggar woman tightly grabbed the arm of the soldier.  
She squeezed it tighter.  
And tighter still.  
And she kept squeezing until she broke it in such an odd way, causing the man to scream in agony.

He dropped the sword and clenched his awkwardly broken arm while the beggar picked it up to defend Altair.

"You know, I _should _let them kill you for trying to kill _me_..." she said in a low, angry voice, "But I don't have a black heart, so you're fine... for now."  
Her voice seemed strange to Altair. It was softer than silk, but as slick as melting ice.

The guard leader shouted even angrier than before, telling the soldiers to attack again, but each one fell to her blade. Even though Altair had never laid eyes on her before, he could tell that she was no stranger to fighting. She fought as well as any of the assassins back in Masayaf! Astonished and frightened, the guard leader ran off, deathly afraid for his life. But Altair managed to recover himself, run after the man, jump on his back, and lodge Hidden Blade in his throat. As he stood up, the people realized what had just happened, and in a flash, they were all screaming and running away in terror. The beggar woman managed to catch up with Altair and gave him an unimpressed look as she tossed the sword to the ground, feeling relieved that all the guards were dead.

"I've seen better fighters in my sleep," she breathed.

Altair flexed his hand again and attempted to stab the girl a second time, but she blocked his attack with her other hand. This time, it bled a little less.

"Oh come now." she started again, "Trying the same move on me again? You're really going to have to try harder than that, assassin."

Altair drew back the blade. His mouth hung open a little as he gave her a shocked and confused look.

"How… how do you know that I'm an assassin?"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure you out, seeing as how you walk around with all those weapons on your back."

She suddenly took his hand with the Hidden Blade again and began to study it. Altair looked at her with quite a confused look on his face.

'There is absolutely _no way_ she's a beggar!' he thought

He didn't know why he stopped attacking her, letting her feel his arm and study the Hidden Blade. He would've stopped her from removing some of the leather straps, but he was too preoccupied with the approaching guards from behind her.

"Who is responsible for this?" One shouted while bending over two of the bodies the beggar killed. He then sat up, drew out his sword, as did the others, and started to slowly walk over to the mysterious woman and Altair.

"It's an assassin!" the guard shouted, now realizing who he was.

The girl looked behind her, still holding onto the Hidden Blade, and her jaw dropped as she saw twenty guards with their swords drawn. Altair drew his sword and pushed the girl behind him.

"You had best get out of here!" he said to her.

"Well _this _sure is a turn for the better!" she replied, "I'll leave you to your work, assassin!"

And she went into a sprint and disappeared from the area in a matter of seconds.

The assassin stood up against the wall, sword drawn, facing all ten soldiers and ready for the onslaught. It took a matter of minutes before finishing the majority of them and watching the rest flee. He had only suffered a mere scratch from the battle and was more confident than ever.

He then flexed his hand to check his Hidden Blade once more... but he didn't feel the blade come out.  
He flexed again.

And again.

And again.

Then he looked at his arm.

The whole thing, Hidden Blade and all, was completely gone!

Altair clenched his fist and gritted his teeth in outrage.

"That wench..." he mumbled to himself.

Back with the girl, the sun had fallen and darkness quickly filled the streets of Damascus. She walked through the night with her fingers still bleeding. There was a lot less activity going on through the night, and she felt right at home as she scaled and jumped across the rooftops... still holding onto the Hidden Blade.

She chuckled to herself, "What a fool! Surely these assassins are a joke! If a thief like me can steal something as valuable as this from them, why, I wonder what the others are like!"


	4. Return to the Bureau

Instead of having endless fun with his newly acquired blade, Altair found himself searching the entire city of Damascus for the troublesome vixen. He checked for her in all the districts, but to his dismay and confusion, he couldn't find the target.  
This was disgraceful.  
How could an elite assassin like himself lose something so vital to someone so inferior? Nothing could describe the shame and anger he felt right then and there.

He realized how quickly time had passed when he looked out towards the setting sun.

"I have to get back to the Bureau soon," he muttered.  
But how _could_ he go back? Malik was sure to become suspicious of the Hidden Blade once he saw that it was missing. Altair couldn't imagine what his comrade would say… and since a _woman_ stole it from him, Malik would forever taunt him for this.

'However,' he thought, 'If I get to the Bureau, I can ask the Rafiq if he's heard anything… out of place here recently,'

It took Altair a matter of minutes to reach the Bureau. As he fell through the rooftop's entrance, he caught a glimpse of Malik, relaxing by the wall on a pile of pillows. He looked up at Altair with the same jealous-like expression from before.

"Back so soon, are we?" Malik asked with a feigned smile as he stood up.

"I have no time to fool around, Malik. Is the Rafiq in?"

Malik gave his eyes a slight squint. "Of course," he said.

Altair quickly paced towards the small office of the Bureau leader. The Rafiq, as they called him, wore a dark, hooded robe with his full and scraggly beard hanging out of it. He turned to face the distraught-looking assassin.

"Safety and peace, Altair." he said, "Is something the matter?"

"It is nothing I can't handle, Rafiq." Altair lied, "But I am in need of some information."

"Information? Why, surely Master Al Mualim hasn't given you a target for today."

"It is not a target. Well at least… not yet."

"Where is this coming from, Altair?" Malik interrupted as he strolled into the room.

"It's nothing" he replied, "I'm just curious about something."

Malik knew something was up; the assassin couldn't fool him. But then he saw something… or rather, he _didn't_ see something, on Altair's left arm. He was one weapon short.

"Are you sure that it's _nothing_ you can'thandle?" Malik asked with a smirk on his face.

Altair glanced suspiciously at him. "_Yes_," he said annoyed.

"Oh, well then does this '_something_' have anything to do with your Hidden Blade?"

Altair blinked as he tried to move his arm out of Malik's sight, but it was of no use. He knew it was gone. The Rafiq had started to take notice too.

"Is this true, Altair?" he asked, stunned, "Did something happen to your Hidden Blade?"

'Dammit,' he thought, 'I should've known nothing gets past Malik….'

"We're all waiting, Altair." Malik said sarcastically.

"I-I got into a bad fight with a group of Templars," he said finally, "I'd rather leave it at that…"

"Templars, you say?" Malik continued with his sarcasm, "Well, from what _I've_ heard, the Templars will be here in Damascus _tomorrow_. They have a gathering in Jerusalem, about a week from now, so they're taking a short rest in Damascus. Now... _what exactly _happened, Altair, or are you too afraid to even admit defeat?"

"I was not defeated, _Malik_!" Altair retorted angrily, "If that thief hadn't caused trouble, _she_ would be dead by now!"

"And... that's a good thing…? Wait—did you just say, 'she'? As in a _woman _stole the Hidden Blade?" Malik forced himself to hold in laughter.

"No wait! That's not what I—_stop laughing_, damn you!"

Once Malik calmed down, Altair finally told him and the Rafiq everything.

"You are not to breathe a word of this so long as you live!" he said sternly to Malik.

"I don't think I can promise you that," he said

"Oh trust me, you will. Or so help me God, I'll—"

"At ease, Altair," interrupted the Rafiq, "A clear mind will help resolve any issue. Now then, it was a _lady_ thief, you say, that stole from you? I have heard of such a woman. They are not common in Damas, but there was one particularly in this area that has been stealing all kinds of things."

"What kind of things?" Altair asked calmly, but sternly.

"I'm not sure. She has a strange taste for the things she steals. Some claim that she has stolen medical things; others say food, but then there are times when she steals weaponry too. But the strangest thing about this is people consider her a saint!"

"Is there anything you could tell me that might _help, _Rafiq?" Altair said impatiently

The Rafiq paused for a moment, then said, "... all I can tell you is that the woman spends most of her days in the bazaar marketplace, to the west of here."

"I'll go at once."

"Don't be in such a rush, Altair… or at least don't rush off without a word of caution..."

Altair turned back to face the Rafiq with yet another impatient look.

He continued, "I give you warning, young assassin. The girl has many allies that roam the streets. Cause anything out of turn and they'll be onto you. I don't think that would be in your best fortune."

"I thank you Rafiq" he said.

"How is it that you know all of this?" asked Malik.

"Because the wench has stolen from _me_ as well!"

Altair breathed, "That is most unfortunate..."

And with that, he stormed off towards the direction of the bazaar marketplace, Malik following behind him.

"This woman..." Malik began, "...how could she have stolen from you?"

Altair frowned at this question, but answered, "When we get there, you shall see..."


	5. The Name of a Thief

The nightfall had turned a new kind of dark as the beggar woman walked alongside the small river in Damascus. She watched the boats rise and fall to the rhythm of the rippling waters below. The gorgeous site, despite the eerie setting of the city, made her think of happier times, before the start of the ridiculous Crusades.  
She continued onward until she reached the Mosque thoroughfare. She witnessed a small group of children running and playing in the dust. They all laughed and giggled to no end, chasing each other playfully under the night sky. Suddenly, one small child stopped and watched the woman head into the bazaar. Though there were still large groups of people buying things at the market stands, it wasn't nearly as crowded as it was during the daytime. She tenaciously shifted the Hidden Blade from one bleeding hand to the other. The beggar thief never really got the chance to treat her hands, but hadn't planned to do so. She was content with letting the blood dry up beneath the crevices of her fingers, making it develop into a much harder and rougher texture.

However, the darkness had grown thicker in the bazaar as she made an unexpected turn in a narrow alleyway. She walked the isolated alleyway's path until she came face-to-face with a dead end and a stone wall. She glanced at the boarded planks strapped together with rope as it rested lazily on the stone wall. The woman tilted her head to the side, trying to see it better through the thickness of the dark before she moved closer. Slowly, she felt up against the wall. It was cold to the touch as she dragged her fingers against each stone behind the plank.

"Here it is." she said to herself as she leaned in to push the stone forward.

Suddenly, a small clicking sound traveled to her ears as she gently moved the boarded plank out of place. In front of her now stood an opened pathway, which lead into further darkness still. She slipped in, completely disappearing from the alleyway, while returning the boarded plank back to its original resting place.

A cool breeze followed against the narrow walls of the passage. And after several minutes of walking in total darkness, a sudden, orange glow formed in the midst of the passage. She stepped closer to it, only noticing at the last second that it was a candle resting quietly on a small table, freshly lit by someone.  
The girl smirked and chuckled a bit.

"And _what,_ may I ask, is so funny?" came the voice of an old man, his face barely lit from the candle as he sat in a chair next to it.

"Nothing, nothing" she responded brightly, "It's just that you're _always _somewhere where I least expect you, Master Al Ueralaj. I thought you would be asleep by now."

The person known as Al Ueralaj stood up and stepped slowly towards the illuminating glow. The light waved backward and forward as it exposed more of the bearded man's face. He was dressed in a black-hooded robe, similar to that of Al Mualim's attire. However, unlike Al Mualim, his small eyes showed quite an opposite character as he stared contentedly at the woman.

"You were supposed to return hours ago," he said calmly.

"I was preoccupied with something else at the moment…" she replied.

"And may I ask _what_ you were preoccupied with?"

"Do not worry about it. This city can do nothing to hold me back. And you really should place more candles in this passage. As you can see, it can get quite dark some nights..."

"Do not change the subject, Altira." Her master said, "None of you are supposed to stay out so late unless given an assignment. These days, thieving nights aren't as calm as they used to be…"

The strange, devious woman, now known as Altira, crossed her arms as he said this.

"I understand, master," she said, "But do not badger me like a mother does her child!"

Al Ueralaj crossed his arms as well.

"Ah," he said, "But then what good are a master's teachings if the _**child**_ won't _listen_? You cannot allow the red-cross knights to become a direct threat to us, Altira."

"You mean the Templars?" she asked, "I know what those bastards are capable of. And I promise you that I will do _nothing_ to threaten the well-being of the sanctuary! But… to think that they're going to be here in Damascus tomorrow... what business do they have coming to our city?"

"It is only one day. I hear that they have a sort of task in Jerusalem that concerns… what is it that you've got in your hand?"

Altira looked at the Hidden Blade within her hands. In truth, she herself did not know what it was, but she saw how powerful it could be against those unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of its blade.

"This?" she asked, "I stole it from an unworthy opponent."

"And did you kill him?" Al Ueralaj asked.

"Funny you should ask that," she retorted, "It was the other way around. _He _attempted to kill _me_. But I guess that assassin got what he deserved when those guards showed up at the last second-"

"It was an _**assassin?**_" he responded rather sharply, caught by surprise.

Altira jumped at her master's sudden change in demeanor. "Y-yes. It was an assassin, but—"

"And you _**killed **_this assassin, right?"

"No… I didn't. I-I _couldn't_! There were too many guards, so I—"

"Oh, Altira, this is quite a mess you've gotten yourself into."

"It's not like he can find me!"

"Oh but he _will_! An assassin has greater allies than you think, young Altira… and far greater skill than you could possibly expect. Remember that, and do not test them, or face grave consequences. But I'm curious… why _didn't_ you kill him?"

"I don't know. I would have killed him like I would any other man... but he was different somehow. I knew from the start that he would never be an easy kill. He was far too strong for that. Heh… but he did seem a bit clumsy. But just one look in his eyes made me see something else… something that _wasn't_ assassin-like."

"Well, it sounds to me that you have a bigger interest in this assassin than I thought." Al Ueralaj teased.

"Oh stop it! Here! If it is of any interest to you, you can have this barbaric thing!"

Altira then tossed the Hidden Blade over to Al Ueralaj. He gave it a quick look before he too called out the pointed blade. Altira was amazed.

"H…how did you **do that**?" she asked curiously, "I have been trying to figure it out this whole day and here _you've_ figured it out in only a matter of seconds! Tell me, how do you wear and use such a thing?"

"If you are willing to give up your ring finger, I'll be more than happy to show you!"

Altira gave out a hoarse laugh. "Have you gone mad?" she said, "What fool would give up a finger for _that_?"

"Those that seek power… and in this case, it's the assassin you stole it from. Because of this, he will do anything and everything in his power to **get it back**." Altira folded her arms again as he continued, "And seeing as how you didn't kill him, your only option left is to give it back to him."

Suddenly, her eyes widened. "Give it back? _**Give it back? **_Have you seriously gone insane?"

"Consider it your punishment for not regarding my warnings about the dangers at night. But still... if you are able to give it back to the assassin without getting yourself killed for stealing it in the first place, it would be quite the amazing feat."

He then tossed the Hidden Blade back to her before picking up the candle. Altira stood silent for a moment. She looked back up at him with a distraught look on her face as Al Ueralaj simply walked away.

"Bu-but... you've taught me to be most alert at night!" She fought back, "Why must I be punished for something that-"

"I will discuss of this no more!" he said, turning back around, "But I _will_ say this, Altira. If you choose not to return the Blade to the assassin, then you are not allowed to return to the Den for the rest of the night. If you think you can stand to disregard my rules, then you can handle being out all night by yourself. You can return at dawn tomorrow."

And with that, he turned back around and continued walking down the rest of the passageway, deeper into the Den, leaving Altira in the dark.  
Would she do it?  
_Could_ she do it?

Standing there, she weighed her options.

"Of course I won't do it!" she chuckled to herself, "What he's telling me to do is suicide! I can handle staying outside all night by myself. But returning a stolen item… and to an _assassin_ no less! It is complete and utter **madness**!"

But she knew that testing her master's patience for so long would have eventually led to her punishment anyway. Al Ueralaj had been nothing but kind to her, even though she never took heed in her master's warnings.  
As she made her way back outside of the Den, she glanced back at the troublesome blade.

"What a day _this_ has been…" she muttered to herself, circling the Hidden Blade in her hands, "I bet the Templars would pay a fortune for this…"  
But that was simply out of the question. She had just made a promise to her master that she would never associate with the likes of them! She may not have listened to the majority of Al Ueralaj's rules, but whenever she made a promise to him, she made sure to keep it.

While standing in the middle of the bazaar, she watched the sun slowly crawl its way up to the horizon. By now, some of the early shoppers had come out in hopes of buying fresher things at the market stands. She watched for a while, looking at a woman trying to negotiate the price down for a good-looking piece of fish.

She chuckled before heading out to the Mosque Courtyard again.

The children were all gone at this point, probably trying to get in a few final hours of sleep, Altira thought. In their places stood four Saracen guards, blocking the only entrance into the Mosque building. She shook her head as she continued onwards in an unspecified direction.

Altair and Malik stood on top of a scaffold, right outside of the bazaar's gates, as they watched her leave the Courtyard.

"_That_ is the girl who stole your Hidden Blade?" Malik asked.

Altair let out a chug of breath.

"Sometimes, I just simply cannot believe you," Malik continued sarcastically, "But at least she's pretty. You should be quite lucky to have your Hidden Blade stolen from someone like _her_!"

"Be quiet, Malik!" Altair retorted, "Something's not right…"

They both glanced at the guards by the Mosque building. Two of the guards began conversing with each other, pointing in the direction Altira left, before leaving their posts.

"They're going after her," he said, "Quickly; we must reach her before they do!"

"I doubt that we're going to ask her for it back…"

"Don't be a fool, Malik! We kill the girl then take back what's mine."

"Heh. Whatever you say, Altair."

* * *

**DT: Okay, as you may have noticed so far in the edits, I have taken out most of my author's notes. Those were not intentional. I type them up on microsoft and then put them on the website. I just forget to put in an author's note sometimes, but you know, I really don't have much to say (except REVIEW!), and the editing is really tedious; almost to the point where I want to finish it and be DONE for the day. lol. Such is a day's work when it comes to fanfiction...**


	6. The Eagle and The Fox

The guards continued to converse with each other, giving mild stares and points in Altira's direction.

"That's the thief, isn't it?" said one of the guards, "The nuisance of Damascus?"

The other looked at him and replied with a confident nod, drawing out his sword. Understanding his fellow Saracen clearly, he too pulled out his sword as they began to close in on her from behind. Altira, being as unaware as ever, only confirmed their suspicions when she tore off her beggar rags.

"I don't need this anymore." she said in her slightly accented voice.

Her clothes were of vibrant silk, the kind that Indian dancers would have favored. It was of a pale blue color, but an extremely thin and bright material as well. The clothing was split into pants and a small top. The pants had a low and loose cut, and it could be slightly seen through. Her waist was tight, perfectly fitting with the pants, and was exposed and uncovered by her top, which was only useful for covering her chest. The top was cut low as well, barely covering her breasts, which were quite larger than normal size. Her long and rich black hair, coming down the middle of her back, helped add to her beautiful physique. Her face did too, with its flawless skin and mature structure, though her charcoal colored eyes resembled that of an innocent child's.

Altira walked in the midst of the crowd, pondering on what to do with the Hidden Blade.

'I should probably go back and apologize…' she thought, 'Maybe he'll let me return then.' But as soon as she placed the Hidden Blade in her pants, the voices of the Saracen guards reached her ears.

"Stop! Thief!" they shouted.

She turned around from shock, only to watch the guards now running towards her with their large sabers in their hands.

"Oh, Allah, why today!" she said before turning around with a quick dash.

She ran into a full sprint through the crowded streets, pushing as many people out of the way as possible. Altair and Malik ran across the rooftops, both sets of eyes locked on her. They continued watching as the guards steadily closed in on her.

"Should we help her?" Malik asked a bit concerned.

"If the guards get her, it will save us our strength," Altair replied lowly.

"I know but, be she a thief or not, it is not the way of the Creed."

"But she is not an innocent!"

"And neither are the guards, in this case."

Altair's nose twitched. "Do whatever you like, Malik," he said, "I'm not doing anything."

"Alright, fine. _I'll_ fend off the guards, while _you _go after her!"

"I believe that is the smartest thing you've said to me all day."

"Just be quiet and get the job done! The sooner this is finished, the sooner we can head back to the Bureau."

Altai smirked at him before jumping off the rooftop into a nearby haystack. Malik continued eyeing the guards as he ran across the rooftops, keeping up with the frantic Altira.

The guards almost reached her heels until she did something most unexpected. She climbed up a set of nearby crates and grabbed onto a small horizontal beam, swinging from it until she safely reached a thicker beam, balancing safely atop it, high above the guards' heads. She then climbed onto the side of the building where a horizontal beam had stuck out, and made her way to the rooftop.  
The guards did the smart thing and made their way to the nearest ladder and climbed to the rooftop as well.

Altira went into a fighter's stance, arming herself with her fists. Once the Saracens reached the rooftops, they began to chuckle at her, being out of breath.

"So," said the one to the right, "You're the infamous ta'lab that's causing such a fuss in Damascus lately, eh?"  
She blinked.  
It was the first in a long time since she had been called a Fox in Arabic.

But the moment was interrupted when the guard fell to the ground, gasping for air. Altira looked down at him and noticed that there was a small knife of some kind, lodged in his throat.

He gargled horribly as the blood seeped through his mouth and his throat, and then the ground.  
Altira was disgusted as well as the other guard, as he gave her a look of both fear and anger.

"Filthy ta'lab!" he shouted, "What have you done?"

'How the hell should I know, you fool?' she thought.

Suddenly, Malik came down from a higher rooftop on the side. He stood in front of Altira, sword in hand. She smiled, believing that the stranger was defending her, but soon noticed the white hood and robe, only realizing, at that moment, just what kind of "person" he really was. Altira took a few large steps away from him before completely turning around and running away from the scene. Malik looked back for a brief second as he saw her heading down into the narrow streets.

"Now it's your turn, Altair." he said before engaging in a short battle with the last remaining guard.

"Has all of Damascus has gone mad?" Altira said to herself while walking down a small street, "First the Templars are coming into the city, then I get myself kicked out of the sanctuary, _then_ the guards start chasing me, and _now_ _**assassins**_are coming for me! What is going on here?"

She stopped for a brief moment in front of the Pasha Mosque before disappearing into the crowds once more. The Pasha Mosque was a very large and vibrant building with a few palm trees in the front of it.

'I need to get out of here.' She thought, 'Fast.'

Altira constantly glanced behind herself, knowing that someone would catch her if she let her guard down again. Eventually, she found herself alone in the southwestern alleyways. They were surprisingly dark at this time of day, which only furthered her uneasiness.  
And suddenly, she heard a footstep.  
Quickly, she turned around expecting the assassin, but there was no one.  
So she continued on.  
Then two footsteps were heard.  
She turned around again, this time more defensively

"Who's there?" she demanded, "I know you're here, so just come out and face me like a _real _man!"

It was quiet and she couldn't hear anything. She sighed and continued on.  
Then, she heard seven running footsteps.  
She turned around even faster, but still...  
There was no one around, nowhere to be seen.  
The only option left seemed to be coaxing him out.

"You can't keep playing these games with me, _assassin_!" she shouted, a little less paranoid this time, "You're not getting your little trinket back; not until you come out of your little hiding place! I _might _give it back if you ask nicely."

Again, there was no response.

She continued to walk down the street, expecting more footsteps, but they had stopped. Now, her heart resting at ease, she began to feel a bit more confident as she continued walking.  
That was until...

Altira made a rather fast turn towards another alleyway, only to find that she had bumped right into the assassin she had stolen from just a day ago.  
She took several steps back from him and gasped.

Altair's white hood covered his face to the point where only his chin and lips showed, giving him a very dark and sinister look. He had his sword drawn, but he held it to the side so as not to strike...yet.

"Even if I _did _ask nicely," he said in his spine-shattering voice, "you would die in the process."

"You can't kill me, assassin." she bluffed, trying to buy time as she took more steps back.

Altair was very tired and agitated. "Oh, I'll kill you, you damn thief." he said as he took a few large steps toward her.

"You wouldn't seriously think of killing me? A woman? What happened to men respecting women?"

"That philosophy died the minute it saw _you_!"

"That's a lot of talk for an assassin... can you back it up?"

"Don't test me, wench."

"Oh, I'll test you, you damn assassin." Altira mocked.

Frustrated, Altair raised his sword and swung fast at her head. Altira managed to move out the way by rolling towards the ground. However, in doing so, the Hidden Blade slipped from her pants and rolled to the assassin's feet. Altair smiled as he picked it up and placed it back on his left arm. While he did this, Altira tried to dive for the Hidden Blade, but he had already picked it up by then and she accidentally landed right by his feet. After placing it on his arm, she struggled to move away from Altair as he quickly brought his sword down on her.  
Again, she dodged it, but in a more painful way.  
Altira grasped the sword at the last second with her bare hand. Blood seeped out and spread all over her arm as she slowly stood up, not saying a word, and bent his sword, giving it a backwards curve.  
It was useless now.

Altair threw it to the ground in anger, but then noticed that Altira's expression was _much _angrier.  
She threw a swift punch to his face, knocking him to the floor, but instead of running away she went over to the bent sword, picked it up, and fixed its bend. As she grasped the blade in her hand, it carved deeper in her wound, causing the blood to trickle down faster.

"I'll take this in exchange." she said coldly before turning and walking away.

Altair clenched his fists and teeth as he stood up and flexed his hand, revealing his reacquired Hidden Blade. Without wasting any time, he charged straight for the blasted thief.  
But mysterious Altira kept dodging everything he threw at her!

Once he reached her, she countered his attack, catching the blade between her fingers again, but this time, she pulled Altair towards her and then pushed him into a scaffolding.  
The whole wooden structure collapsed on top of him.  
He surfaced his way back up through all of the broken bits and pieces, still in quite a shock, but when he lifted up his head, Altira stood there with sword in hand and put it directly in front of his face... _his _sword in _her _hand, the weapon now turned against its master.

"If my principals permitted me to kill people _**other**_ than guards," she said furiously, "You would have been dead long ago!"

She tossed the sword down to the ground so fiercely it bounced up, picking up a whiff of dust in the process once it finally relaxed on the ground.

Altair squint his eyes at her as she did this, confused about the mentioning of her "principles." He then glanced back at her wounded arm as the blood dripped down in the dust.

"Just exactly _who are you_?" he asked curiously.

Altira smirked slyly, a bleeding hand placed on the right side of her tilted head.

"I am but a simple thief." she said coolly, "A thief that does not take the lives of anyone beside guards or Templars; a simple Fox known as Altira al-Asiya!"

She wavered a bit from side to side while she smirked at the assassin. He looked completely helpless as he lay there in the debris, too shocked and too awe-inspired to try and get himself free.

"Now that I have told you who I am, I would like to know exactly _who __**you**_ are?" she chuckled.

Altair too gave off a small smirk towards the Ta'lab.

"I am Altair Ibn La-Ahad." he said. "The Flying Eagle and the Son of None."

Suddenly, Altira's smile fell and her eyes grew narrow as she picked up the sword once more.

"So tell me...'_**Altair**_'" she said sarcastically and angrily through clenched teeth, "Are you familiar with a man named 'Mehmet Aminath'?"

"The merchant king from ten years past?" he said unsurely, "I have heard of such a man but-"

"So you admit to it!" Altira suddenly shouted violently, "For _years _I've searched for the man responsible for killing Aminath, and today happens to be just my luck! My principles may forbid me to kill anyone but guards, but it never said anything about vengeance!"

And she raised the sword high above his head, preparing to swing down, when Altair realized he forgot to get out of the debris.  
But oh, if luck wasn't on his side!

From high above, someone had thrown a large rock at the back of Altira's head, causing her to fall to the ground unconscious. Since she was already bleeding, she was slowly slipping into unconsciousness already, but the rock to the head had quickly sped up the process.  
It was Malik.

Blood was splattered at the knees of his assassin's outfit as he slowly approached Altair and the girl. He chuckled at the state his friend was in.

"She wasn't too much for you, was she?" Malik joked.

"Enough, Malik." Altair said in a surprisingly calm tone, "Now is _not_ the time for you to tease me."

"Well, did you at least get the Hidden Blade back?"

"Of course." said Altair as he forced his way out of the messy debris. He lifted up his arm to show him as he flexed out his blade.

"Good." continued Malik, "Now we can kill the girl and get out of here."

Soon, Malik raised his sword, preparing to slice at Altira's neck, but Altair got in the way and stopped him. Malik was shocked, and a bit confused. He had known Altair for far too long for him to be doing something like this. The last thing he knew he would do was try to stop his fellow assassins from killing a target (Unless _he_ wanted to do it himself)! So why did he do this now? What caused him to act this way?

"Altair... what's the matter with you?" he asked, "Is this not the person you wanted dead a while ago?"

"...that was a while ago and this is now." Altair retorted, "There's something very strange about this woman."

"No kidding."

"Be _serious, _Malik! She claims she is a thief, but doesn't steal valuables or treasures. She can climb rooftops, swing from beams, and is highly skilled with self-defense... and counters." He grumbled at those last two words.

"What are you getting at, Altair?" asked Malik, understanding his points.

"Everything that _she_ does is almost _identical _to what _we assassins _are capable of. What if there are more thieves like her? If she dies, they'll come looking for her... and for us!"

"Ah. So what do you recommend we do with her: Keep her alive and _allow _her to get her friends to come after us? That's not the way of the Creed and you kno-"

"Dammit, Malik! Will you stop mentioning the Creed? Life would be a lot easier for you if you did!"

Malik stayed quiet and folded his arms as Altair picked up the unconscious Altira and tossed her over his shoulder.

"I say we take her to the Bureau with us." he continued, "I say we hold onto her for interrogation."

"And _**I**_ say you're mad... or desperate!" said Malik.

"Be serious, Malik."

"I _**am **_being serious, Altair! Either she's hit you in the head too hard... or you're desperate enough for a woman you'd keep her held captive like a barbarian!"

"…shut up. I can't believe you'd even think like that."

"Yeah, well... do what you like; I want no part of it."

And so, Altair and Malik headed back for the Bureau. They hadn't realized how close they were, seeing as how the alleyways and the Bureau were almost right next to each other. Altair ignored many of Malik's rude remarks along the way as they fell through the ceiling entrance of the Bureau. Once Malik was inside, Altair tossed the thief down to him, and then he too made his way down into the Bureau. Malik laid her down on the pile of pillows at the corner of the small room as they both made their way to the Rafiq.

He seemed to be a bit more excited than usual.

"Ah, safety and peace be upon you two!" he said happily, "How goes your mission? I pray that you killed the thieving wench painfully slow!"

"Oh yes, Altair," Malik taunted, "Tell the Rafiq how you... _took care of her_."

Altair stayed hesitant for a moment, but then replied, "Altira isn't dead. Well, not yet at least. She's in the other room unconscious. And I think we-"

"Altira?" the Rafiq asked confusingly.

"Yes. She said her name was Altira... but that's not important! If we hold her long enough, she's bound to tell us what we need to know."

"Oh, Altair, what a mess you've gotten yourself into..."

"I still can't believe you remember that girl's name." Malik interrupted again.

Altair stayed silent. And the assassins stayed in the Bureau for the rest of the day with Altira unconscious in the other room.

Meanwhile, outside the Damascan City gates, a large group of men riding white-hooded horses casually made their way to the city. Their clothes were as white as the assassins, but the wide, Red Cross on their chests stood out so clearly, it could be seen ten feet away.  
Suddenly, the Red Cross knight, leading the herd, turned his horse around and faced his men.

"Fellow Templars," he started in a heavily accented voice, "Let us make ourselves welcome here in Damas while we can."


	7. Expecting the Unexpected Pt 1

Altira stirred slowly awake. Her head felt extremely heavy, the pain lingering slowly but steadily. She moved around and blinked her eyes open, noticing an incredibly smooth surface sliding against her skin.  
It felt nothing like the hard and dusty ground she was used to. Immediately, she jerked her head up, unsure of what danger she might be in. Her surroundings were covered in a veil of darkness. While steadily growing uncomfortable, she turned around to see what she laid on, only to stare at it in confusion.  
They were pillows; satin pillows, all in a large pile.

She blinked. Where was the assassin?

"Am I dead?" she mumbled to herself a few times.

But there was another problem.  
She couldn't move her limbs. Her hands felt as though they were tied together and crossed over from behind her back, while her feet were stuck at each other's sides, feeling as though they were bound tightly together as well.  
She tenaciously struggled to get free, but to no avail.  
Her limbs were most definitely tied together and fairly well at that!

Then suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps reached her ears. She heard them slowly approaching her, treading loudly across the floor. Frantically, she looked all around, but could hardly see anything in the unknown darkness. And the sound of a chillingly familiar voice fell with a thud against her ears as she sat herself up.

"You aren't dead," it boomed lowly, "Well at least... not yet..."

Altira's face hardened. She recognized the voice immediately. The cold, harsh tone was surrounded by a familiar yet dangerous aura. Just listening to the voice had made her spine shake with fear and anger.

"Bastard." she said, the word hushed under her breath.

She tried to stand, but fell back down, forgetting about her restrained feet. For a minute or two, she began struggling fiercely with the tight knots, only to hear a second, unfamiliar voice pick up. It obviously belonged to another male, but had a much thicker accent.

"I see that you've taken notice to the 'extra precautions' we've made," he said, "We can't have you running about the place now, can we?"

Altira growled furiously. "Why not just kill me?" she demanded, "I am of no further use to you!"

"Ah and with that, we are in agreement," the second voice replied, "Though Altair thinks otherwise. You should discuss that matter with him. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a far more important matter to attend to."

Altira could hear the mysterious stranger's heavy footsteps as he walked through her black surroundings. She heard clanking and, what sounded like, the movement of a rather large plank board. The shifting of the plank had caused a powerful beam of light to enter the room  
Glorious sunlight from the outside world…  
Altira smiled on the inside as she thoroughly looked around the area. The sheer energy from the light alone caused her to squint as she tried to take in as much as possible. From the high walls of the small room, she could tell that she was trapped, and that the only way out appeared to be from where the light shone. In front of her appeared to be some sort of faucet, which gave her an uneasy feeling from its estranged design. But to her right, she saw another opening along the side of the wall. It was merely a space that led to another room.

'Perhaps that could be of use for my escape, if nothing else…' she thought slyly.

When she glanced back towards the ceiling, she made out just the faintest tip of the stranger's robe.  
The white color had become all too familiar to her as the stranger reached the top of the roof.  
As he turned round, Altira caught a glimpse of his face. In an instant, she knew who he was, staring at him curiously.

'He's the man from before…' she thought, 'But then again, how long ago was, _before_?'

Her eyes never left him, even when he placed the wooden board overtop of the bright light, returning her to the unsettling darkness.

Luckily, Altira's eyes had quickly adjusted to the sudden changes as she laid her head against the cold stone wall behind her, thankful for her returning sight.

"I see that you've gotten the chance to meet Malik," the first voice from before said, breaking the moment of silence.

Altira snapped out of her thoughts and remembered that one person still remained with her.

Someone she despised.  
Someone who despised her.  
Altair Ibn La-ahad.

She watched his silhouetted figure walk over to her, standing over of her as she glanced up at his well hidden face. She could see the outline of his broad shoulders and muscular frame beneath the hooded wear, as well as the tip of his sheathed short sword from behind his back. She continued to glare at him, growing frustrated that she couldn't make out his face from the dark shadows or the hood itself.  
After all, since they had first met, he had seen her face, but she had yet to see his.

She dropped her eyes downward, having grown too frustrated to keep up the staring contest, and caught a glimpse of his Hidden Blade once again, strapped firmly to his left arm.

'Damn you and all of the trouble you've caused me!' she thought angrily towards it.

Altair steadily noticed her eyes locked on his weapon.

"If you think you can steal this a second time, think again!" he sneered, taking a small step away from her as he crossed his arms.

She scoffed, "I can steal it from you a hundred times without making so much as a trail of dust float in the air!"

Altair gave her a fake smile. "You certainly are quite the braggart!" he retorted.

"It is how I survive, assassin." she replied sarcastically.

"Is it how you survive, or how your master _told_ you to survive?"

Suddenly, her eyes went cold, glaring fiercely at him.

"How would you know about that?" she said, almost in a whisper.

"I didn't. Not until now, Altira."

The thief dropped her head, ashamed of how careless she let her words slip.

'Al Ueralaj would have my head for this!' she thought.

"And now that I know you are part of some conspiracy, you will tell me everything I need to know." Altair's words broke her train thought.

She glanced back into his eyes, now more cold than ever. Then suddenly, she looked back at the opening on the side of the wall from behind him.  
She could feel a smirk growing across her face.

"We'll see if you can get anything, useful out of me..." she challenged, "Our ways condemn us to silence from outsiders."

"And do your ways also condemn you to silence your life?" he said, trying resisting the urge to call out his blade.

"If it is necessary, we accept death. Unfortunately for you, the ones who interrogate us are always the ones who die."

She gave Altair an unfriendly smile as he twitched his nose.

'If I just provoke him a little further...' she thought deviously.

Altair stared hard at the girl. Despite the darkness, his keen eyes could see the ta'lab thief very well. He looked in her gorgeous, black eyes as they gave off a look of deception and mischief. The way her lips curved into a smile made him want to move closer, even glide a finger over them. But her most admirable quality, he thought, was her hair. Its black straights and curls were in a beautiful mess that further enhanced her already flawless face. Her head was so close to the wall that her hair spread out in a seductive manner lifting up on all sides. He could just imagine her running her fingers through her hair while gathering him up close to her face with her other hand, as she gave off an enticing smile that would make any man's lip quiver and knees buckle. It was as if—

"Assassin," she said, interrupting his thoughts, "If you're going to stare at me all day, you might as well let me go. That way, you can stare at my backside while I leave this miserable place!"

Altair's nose twitched again.

"If I want something to stare at, I'll stare at the wall." he grumbled.

"I'm sure you will," she responded coolly, "I don't want to look at you either…"

'There is always one thing wrong with a woman. _**Always**_ one!' Altair was growing more and more irritated.

After a moment or two, Altira went back to fidgeting with her hands, trying so desperately to free them.  
Altair noticed.

"You can't hope to free yourself," he gloated, "Malik is quite the expert when it comes to tying knots."

Altira didn't respond. She continued with her fidgeting.  
Altair growled impatiently.

Time seemed to stand still for what felt like hours, when in reality, it was only a few minutes, as he watched her struggle endlessly.

"Why waste your time with someone like me?" Altira said, finally growing tired of her futile struggle.

Altair didn't respond. He simply turned and faced the fountain.  
Altira heaved a heavy sigh before he finally turned around to speak again.

"You are not some common thief; that is what I know for sure," he said in his low voice, though a bit less intense this time, "Your little conspiracy poses a great distraction to our work, as well as a threat."

"What conspiracy?" she shouted in an insulted tone, "What are you talking about? We aren't a threat to anyone... Well at least, not to the innocent. The Templars are who we fear and hate! You hate them too, I'm sure?"

He glanced at her and gave a smirk.

"That's probably what you want me to believe." he said coldly with the tone in his voice rising, "what makes you think that I would believe such a feign story? Do you honestly think that you and your organization can promote peace in this world?"

"Isn't that what you _honestly_ think about _**your**_ organization?" Altira countered angrily.

He chuckled, "We are fully aware that our cause is just. We are not poor children being led by the nose."

"You're right. It's more like ill-bred sheep being led to the slaughter! Tell me, **Altair**, what _feign stories_ does _your_ master feed you?"

Altair's look became more cross than before. He took three large steps toward her, lifted her onto her feet and slammed her hard against the wall. She coughed as he pushed his fist into her sternum.

"You will never speak of my master in any such manner again!" he gritted through his teeth.

Altira's response was anything but pleasant…

She looked him straight in the eye and **spat** right in his face!

Altair flinched, backing away slightly as he took his hand off of her to wipe away the spit from his chin, which dangled in a disgusting manner.  
The daring thief stood there smirking. "I don't need to be commanded by the likes of you," She retorted, "You're a lowlife dog who clings to someone I don't give a _damn _about!"

The anger Altair felt had gone beyond all reason. The ta'lab had pushed her luck too far, almost to the point of no return, and now, she was going to pay dearly for it! Altair had said nothing the whole time; he simply responded with actions. He flexed his right hand, revealing his Hidden Blade, which stood ready for more blood. Altira steadily looked at it.

'Now, if I move just right, he can cut the rope...' she thought to herself.

Altair's fist crashed into her sternum again as he grabbed up her shirt. She had forgotten how strong he was. She couldn't push him off, given the fact that her hands were tied behind her back. And her counters were only useful from a faraway distance.  
But it was either take the chance trying to get free, or let him kill her.

As the assassin arched his arm backwards, he suddenly stopped and looked in her eyes. Altira glanced back, wondering why he had stopped.

"No..." he said, "If you're going to die, you're going to die like the filthy beggar thief that you are!"

He flexed his left arm again, retracting his precious blade, even though it screamed for blood. Instead, he pulled out one of the daggers from its holder on his back and placed it against Altira's neck.  
Her eyes went wide from shock.

'What on earth is he doing?' she thought worriedly, trying to think of another way to back him off.

He gave her a triumphant smirk as he lowered his face closer to hers, making her grow even more uncomfortable. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it only made him press his fist even harder in her sternum. She winced slightly, but never took her eyes off of him. Now wanting to see her suffer, he pulled her from the wall and slammed her back into it even harder. The sharp pain made her gasp in fright as she stood there helpless from the assassin's rough knuckles in her chest. Her breaths were short and quick as she continued to move out of his grip, but it only enticed him more to slam her back into the wall. He could feel her rapid, echoing heartbeats beneath his fist, which made him chuckle slightly.

"You bastard…" she coughed.

Altair smirked wider.  
He brought the blade back to her throat, laying its thin, sharp edge over her skin. Altira swallowed hard, expecting a slow and deep cut, but as luck would have it, a strange noise had suddenly pricked at their ears.

Altair drew back his blade, before he could even break her skin, and turned around to see where the noise came from. The thief tried to move too, but was given a hard smack against the wall… yet again.  
Instead, she looked up, glancing at the boarded plank shifting unevenly atop the roof. A few beams of light came in sporadically until it was completely lifted and removed from the spot.

In came another assassin, dropping to the ground with a hard thud.

His attire was still white, but the tattered ends revealed his low rank status. He stood up frantically, breathing unevenly as if he had returned from a long and arduous journey

"Oh thank Allah I've found you, Altair!" he said with a panicked voice.

Caring more for his comrades than his kill, he removed his grip from Altira's chest and approached the frantic assassin. Altira breathed slowly as she sank back down in the corner of pillows, coughing quietly from finally releasing her.

"What ails you, brother?" Altair replied in a calm, compassionate voice.

"I-i-i-it's... It's Malik! He's in trouble... you have to... the Templars!"

"What about the Templars? You must be at ease. Now tell me, what happened?"

The assassin inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves before he spoke.

"Malik... is in danger!" he said, "He's gotten himself into trouble with the Templars, and now they've captured him!"

"What?" Altair replied angrily, "What kind of fool is Malik?"

"Actually, the truth is..." the assassin's voice trailed off…

"The truth is what?"

"_**I**_... was the one who got into trouble with the Templars. Malik stepped in and came to my aid. I ran. He held them off, but there were too many of them, and now he's in trouble! You must do something, Altair! _Save Malik_!"

Altair placed a hand on his shoulder.

"At ease, brother." he said, "You know well enough that I cannot go into battle alone. You will assist me in finding these vile beings and we will rescue Malik together."

The low-ranked assassin felt sudden relief as Altair placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Altira watched nervously from behind.  
_Was this really the same man who was so determined to kill her not too long ago?_ She wondered.  
Altair was becoming an even more exotic and strange person to her. She now wondered _what_ kind of person he was exactly. If other assassin's were asking for his help, then he probably was very well respected from wherever he came from. Her eyes went wide after remembering the disrespect she had shown him earlier by spitting in his face, so there was no telling what he would do to her when he got back!

Ironically, at that moment, Altair walked over to the thief and yanked at her hair. She gave a yelp in pain as he dragged her through the open space along the wall. The firm grasp he had on her hair suddenly didn't feel as painful when she realized how close she was to escaping. Altair tossed her in the room as she crashed into a few things.  
She hardly even cared. Just as long as there was a door leading out of this hole, she didn't care what she landed on!

Now trying to regroup herself, she looked around the room in hopes of a door, but to her horror, not a single door was in sight.

'No!' she shouted in her head, 'This is all wrong!"

She tried to stand up again, but forgot about her tied feet. And Altair had tossed her into the room too violently for her to recover regardless.

"I'll deal with you later," he told her scornfully, "I trust that you will keep an eye on her, Rafiq?"

"Why yes, Altair." replied the giddy man, "You must go. Quickly. Malik is in need of your help!"

Altira glanced at the man with a very uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The way he eyed her made her feel helpless and fragile, almost to the point where she really felt like she was in danger. She turned around to glance back at Altair, but he was already gone.

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**DT: Yes, I finally edited this damn chapter! Now onto the next one... and the next one...and the next one... and. the. next. one. OH GOD! Wish me luck with this story, people! I need reviews! And I'm starting to like this story again, so please help a sista out, will ya? XD**


	8. Expecting the Unexpected Pt 2

**DT: Omigoodness! This chapter took me WEEKS to finish! WEEKS! Well, hopefully, it was all worth while. I like going back over my old work and erasing/replacing it with a new and better one. For all of those who story alerted it, please give it a look see. It's quite lengthy, like a real story, and I may need to go over it again... in due time... but first, I need to polish what few chapters I have before I can continue on. lol. Read on, my viewers. Read on...**

* * *

Altair and the low ranked assassin traveled quickly through the crowded streets of Damascus. They walked past people of all sorts: Tall, short, dark and light skinned people lavished in large groups, though the majority was relatively poor, since the busiest streets in the city ran through the poor district. Their all-white attire was an awkward contrast to the mixtures of bright and dull clothing of the peasants, but the assassins still managed to blend in with the crowd easily. Altair looked all around, making sure that they weren't being followed by anyone. It became second nature for an assassin when working in pairs. As they continued walking hastily down the street, he took a minute or two to look at his assassin brother. There was no doubt in his mind that his comrade was feeling nervous, shameful even, for having let one of their brothers get captured so easily. He placed a firm hand on his shoulder and smiled as he looked up."It will be alright," he assured him, "We will find Malik."

The assassin gave a quick nod, but then lowered his head in defeat once more. Altair stared at him with a puzzled look on his face. Perhaps, if he knew more, then maybe it would be easier to reassure his comrade.

"Where exactly are they taking him, brother?" he asked concerned.

The low-ranked assassin made no attempt to raise his head. The brief moment of silence worried Altair greatly as they continued walking through the Damascan streets.

"…the Templars are giving a speech at the Madrasah," he said finally, "They plan to kill Malik in front of everyone in attendance there. They say it is... 'God's sign' to the people that the assassins are weakening as the Templars grow stronger. Bah! What ignorant words…"

Altair clenched his fists.

"It's barbaric," he said through gritted teeth, "How can they say that they fight for peace, when clearly it is chaos that they seek?"

He looked back at his comrade, who had still not given him much eye contact since the conversation began.

Perhaps acquiring more information was not the best thing to do.

The dash for the Madrasah did not take incredibly long, but Altair steadily feared the worst possible outcome for Malik.  
Would they arrive too late?  
Had they already killed and done away with Malik?  
Thankfully, no. Luck was well placed on the assassin's side. Slowly and steadily, the two watched their environment close in around them. People huddled together by the dozens, fitting tightly together as they surrounded the small yet tall-domed building known as The Madrasah.

Despite its small stature, the building was quite popular for scholars and despots to speak their minds. And with the Crusade war going on, the most favored topic of all was Salah al-Din and his Saracen army fighting off the European invaders. However, this time at the Madrasah, it was the invaders' turn to give their side of the story…  
Bastard Templars.  
Over thirty of them stood there, huddled around the sacred door of the Madrasah.  
Altair and the assassin kept their distance, still fully blended with the swarming crowd around them. They watched as the Templars brought out a man from behind them. Neither assassin had noticed the man at first, being so well hidden behind the frightening, and well-built statures of the Templars' bodies. Altair stared at the man's white, slashed clothes while his hands were tied behind his back. He clenched his fists tightly at the sight of a large brown sack overtop of the man's head.

"Hold on, Malik," he murmured.

He stood there helpless, watching his captured brother put up a good fight in an attempt to escape the Templars' hold, but they easily overpowered him and pushed him to the floor.

It was a painful sight, watching him squirm and struggle on the ground.

What helpless efforts...

"Just hold on…"

Altair knew that a frontal assault would never work; not with this crowd, and not with so many Templar Knights in place. He had to play this smart, wait for the right moment, then strike!

He redirected his gaze to the tallest of the Templars who had pushed his way to the front of the group.  
Altair looked at his prestigious armor. It stood out before the whole group. From the shining cuffs on his arms, to the cape on his back, everything about the outfit seemed to be perfectly in place. The helmet on his head stood out the most, since he was the only one that seemed to be in possession of it. The pure metal barely showed the slits for eye sockets as the assassins watched his beady eyes blink and glare at the harvest of people in the warm sun. Upon his arms were thin links of chain mail and upon his chest rested an enormous symbol on the front of his garment.

The Templar Cross itself.

Altair cringed at the sight.

"Good day to you, people of Damascus!" the man said with his arms expanded out to his audience in a welcoming gesture as he took a few steps towards the people.

Altair took notice of the man's words, dancing together with a French accent and giving off a charm that made sure to capture the crowd's attention.

He continued, "As I'm sure you are all aware, we Templars are passing through your city; a city that we are most unfamiliar with… but I must assure you that our visits are anything but vain."

Altair rolled his eyes. "What is this nonsense?" he mumbled.

"We mean you no harm, citizens," the Templar continued, "In fact, we offer you our assistance. It is a…"

The rest of his speech had died off before it could even reach the assassin's ears.

'How vain and uninteresting…' he thought.

"Robert seems to be in a happier mood than before," his fellow assassin broke his train of thought.

Altair turned to face him with a confused expression on his face. "Robert?" he asked curiously.

His brother nodded, "Yes, Robert de Sable. He is the leader of all the Templars that you see before him, well, at least, second to Richard the Lionheart."

Altair cared little for the roles of the Templars. So long as they were the enemy, he only cared for the kill. He returned his gaze to the so-called, "Robert de Sable" once more, noticing that he did indeed possess great physical characteristics of a leader: And it was the simple things that made him stand out: height, muscle, the level of confidence in his voice assuring him that he would win the people over with the spread of his filth. Even the simplest of peasants could understand that he was a leader, given the fact that he was the only one wearing a metal helmet in such a large crowd.

Altair slowly returned his focus on the Templar.  
Robert de Sable was becoming a far more interesting person now…

"The Crusades," Robert continued, "Are nothing to fear. They will be over and done with before you know it! However... that is not the reason why I wanted you all gathered here today… today, I have found you an assassin." Altair's ears perked up. "That's right; an assassin is hiding amongst you."

His heart skipped a beat.

'He couldn't possibly mean me, could he?' he thought.

"Yes, it is true," Robert continued, "An assassin has been caught walking amongst you. And we Templars have retrieved him."

The pounding in Altair's heart soon left him as he let out a silent sigh of relief. He watched as Robert took a few steps towards the tightly-bound Malik. His eyes never strayed from the crowd as he continued with his speech.

"An assassin," he said, "Is a man who lives his life murdering the innocent men, women and children of this city... a man who promotes chaos..."

Altair let out a quiet chug of breath at his statement, crossing his arms impatiently with an unnerving desire to strike him right where he stood. His eyes squinted and his fists tightened as he watched the Templar graze his hands around the sack over Malik's head.

"_This_ is that kind of man," he continued, "_This_ is a murderer, the master of disguise. _This_ is the assassin who walks amongst you!"

He then dramatically grabbed and whipped the brown sack from Malik's head. To Altair's confusion and dismay, the tense hostage before Robert, in his white-like outer wear, was not Malik, let alone an assassin!

He was just a simple hostage.

Altair stared at the man's pale and dry face. Unlike Malik's hard and rough exterior, this man had very round and frightened features, not to mention facial hair that covered the majority of his face. It was in a disorderly mess with all sorts of dirt and filth caught inside his beard. Altair saw the man's tiny, fearful eyes scouring across the now disturbed audience.

"H-help me!" he shouted towards the crowd, "He's feeding you lies!" An exceptionally thick Arabic accent had meshed between his words.

He tried to free himself from the Templars' grasp, pulling himself closer and closer to the crowd, only to be rewarded with screams and cries from the people. They backed away from him, pointing and screaming and calling him "Devil!" or, "Hasashin!" Some even ran away in such unbelievable terror, Altair could not believe his eyes.

Had this one Templar won over the city with just a few measly words?

The Templars pulled the strange man back and knocked him to the ground, face first. He cried out as Robert walked over and stomped his foot hard into the man's back, digging his heel in deeper the more he screamed.

"Bastard assassin!" Robert shouted, "You should have known better than to challenge the great authority of the Knights Templar!"

He then gave the man a particularly hard kick which sent him writhing in pain on the ground.

'How dare he…' Altair thought in shock, 'How dare he use a citizen, dress him as an assassin, and then _use_ him to wrongly frighten these people! I knew the Templars had no morals, but this goes far beyond that! They're using people against their will!'

Robert continued to huddle over the man, laughing calmly yet triumphantly at the same time. And as if beating the man senseless wasn't enough for the Templar, he pulled out a small dirk and proceeded to raise it high above his head. Altair began to ready his own weapon, preparing to come to the stranger's defense, but to his confusion, Robert stopped and glanced back at the frantic audience once more.

"Ah, but this is just _**ONE**_ assassin that we have to dispose of!" he shouted, "The one you see before you is also a decoy to call out the other one."

Altair blinked, unsure if he should go out to the man's defense now or stay put.

Robert continued, "Assassin, if you please, come forth. Give yourself up to me and accept your death swiftly."

"Please forgive me, Altair," muttered the assassin next to him.

Altair was dumbfounded.

"What do you think you're doing?" he mumbled back, hard to keep his voice under control from the shock, "Are you going to expose yourself to them? Are you mad?"

The assassin walked behind him, his head faced to the ground in what Altair took as shame. He then placed a hand on his comrade's shoulder once more.

"Do not worry," he muttered calmly now, "You will assist me in rescuing this man and put a stop to Robert. Then we can try to find—"

Altair was taken aback by the awkward chuckling from his friend.

"Don't make me laugh," he said finally, in a somewhat awkwardly low voice, "What makes you think I would want to assist the likes of you?"

"What the—?"

"I wouldn't want to assist one of Al Mualim's dogs even if he threatened to slit my throat if I didn't!"

Suddenly, the assassin gave Altair a quick and forceful push across the abdomen. Too shocked from his comrade's sudden change in demeanor, he never even though about fighting back! Consequently, he found himself pushed through the crowd of gasping people, tripping over his feet, and heading straight for the ground. He quickly regained his composure and found himself encircled by the frightened people and the Templars. He looked around for the assassin, not sure what to feel at that moment. Anger, rage, bitterness… he couldn't tell at the moment.

And even so, the assassin was nowhere to be found.

"You chose wisely, assassin," said Robert, getting Altair's focus back on track, "You knew well not to hide."

Altair's muscles tensed all over.

'That… that _**TRAITOR!**_' he was livid.

"And now, I shall slay you where you stand." Robert congratulated himself on victory before the battle had even begun.

Altair let out a hoarse laugh.

"We shall see who slays who!" he said just as arrogantly.

Altair then took out his own sword, pointing it directly at the French Templar's head. Suddenly, all of the other Templars huddled around their leader defensively, pulling out their own swords.

'Dammit!' he thought, 'I can usually take out this many on my own, but the area is too crowded for this. I'd be outmatched…'

Suddenly, the cue of a woman's blood-curdling scream sent the large crowd running about in terror, trying to get away from the danger they sensed from the assassin and Templars. The wrongfully kidnapped citizen took advantage of the confusion and ran off through the crowd, still frightened for his life. A few Templars noticed and started to chase after him as well.

"Do you see the chaos you've brought here, assassin?" Robert continued with his nonsense, "It is only natural that the heroes put a stop to you and your ways!"

Altair watched as the Templar slowly pointed the dirk at his face. The darkened black and red color shone ominously in the sunlight. He had some difficulty trying to figure out if it was blood or its natural color. More likely blood, he thought.

He gave an annoyed twitch as he heard Robert chuckle beneath his mask.

"Templars!" he shouted with his dirk still pointed directly at Altair, "To arms! Go forth and _**kill**_ this assassin! Do so in the name of God!"

And at that command, the hostile group of Templars behind him rushed out towards their opponent.  
In almost a flash, Altair found himself surrounded by them all, a million swords to one. Suddenly, two brave Templars charged for him and swung their swords at his head. Altair easily dodged it, grabbing a hold of one while swinging his sword at the other's leg. He held a tight grip across the man's neck while the other Templar held onto his bleeding calf in agony.  
Now the assassin was back in control of the situation.  
The Templars regrouped together, avoiding close contact with Altair, lest they risk their comrade's life. The look on Robert's face suddenly became worried and surprised, which made Altair smirk deviously at the head Templar. He dragged his hostage farther away from the knights until he was close enough to the other side of the Madrasah. He then returned the Templar to his fellow knights by giving him a hard shove as he watched him fall to the ground. Without a moment too soon, he went into a full sprint and nearly disappeared from the scene.

He could still hear the livid commands coming from Robert.

"Hunt him down!" he shouted, "Don't let him out of your sight!"

It was almost as if Robert's voice gave his soldiers strength. In a matter of seconds, they managed to find the assassin and gave chase after him. Luckily, Altair made a sharp left turn, breaking the Templars' sight of him, if only for a moment, as he found an alcove with a ladder inside. Quickly, he climbed it, only stopping once his feet touched the roof of the building. As he looked back down, he could see the Templars pushing and shoving their way to climb the ladder.  
He stood there and watched them with a devious smirk on his face.

Soon, twelve of them managed to fit themselves on the ladder.  
Altair stood there and watched.  
The Templars waved their swords around ominously as they began to climb the ladder.  
Still, Altair did not move.  
The Templar in the front managed to reach the top of the building; his hands were clamped tightly over the roof's edge.  
And finally, Altair moved.

His foot stepped on the tip of the ladder and kicked it off the side wall, sending all the Templars crashing down to the ground!

Altair stood there for a brief moment, smirking at the fallen Templars trying to regain their composure. This proved difficult, seeing as how they were toppled over one another.

With the whole lot of Templars distracted, Altair left them in their jumbled mess and ran through the now quiet alleyways, not too far off from the Madrasah.  
It was quiet enough for the assassin to think about his next move. Everything had gone so unexpected, leaving him with what he started with: unanswered questions and even greater confusion. Malik was still missing, the Templars had invaded Damascus, and now there was betrayal amongst the assassin line!

'When I find that traitor,' he thought, 'He won't have to worry about Master Al Mualim slitting his throat. _I'll_ be the one to take care of that!'

His rage was steadily building up inside of him. He could hardly fathom the reason why his comrade would betray him like that!  
And yet…  
Was it really so hard to understand?  
After having witnessed how easily persuasive Robert could be towards the Damascan people, it really shouldn't have been a wonder why his comrade betrayed him so easily. But he was his brother, was he not? Altair couldn't understand how brothers could betray each other so guiltlessly like that. It was far worse than anything he had ever felt before. In all the time he had spent with Al Mualim and the other assassins, if he had learned nothing else, he knew that you were to _**never**_ betray your comrades, not under _any_ circumstances!  
It seemed that the Templars held a much bigger threat against the Assassin order than he thought. It was no wonder why his master was so intent on be ridding the whole lot of them. If they were capable of turning assassins against one another, there was no telling what else they could—

Altair's thoughts were interrupted when a sharp and sudden pain dragged across his back. He fell to the ground in shock as an unusual, painful feeling began to spread across the lower part of his back. Slowly, while clenching his hands and teeth, he managed to raise his head to see his attacker… and sure enough, it was Robert de Sable. Altair could imagine the menacing glare in his eyes beneath the large helmet he wore. The assassin had little time to ponder on the thought once the Templar attacked with his dagger again, but luckily, he managed to roll out of the way. Quickly, Altair tried to stand himself up, but it soon became a nearly impossible task as his body slowly went numb. Again, Robert attacked, but the assassin luckily moved out of the way, almost at the last second. Painfully, he forced himself to stand up as he drew out his own sword. His vision wavered slightly as he tried to hold his sword defensively towards Robert.

The Templar stood there and chuckled.

"You move swiftly, assassin!" he exclaimed, "But it won't help you for long. As you can see, the poison has already weakened your body. It will take some time before it eventually kills you, but your strength and movements have already been damaged immensely."

Altair rested his shoulder against the wall, unable to support himself with just his two feet.

"Poison, huh?" he coughed, "You bastard..."

Robert smiled villainously at his nearly fallen prey. Altair winced slightly, both from the pain and Robert's menacing face. He looked around and noticed that there was no way for him to escape. They were trapped in an alleyway and the buildings were too high up for him to climb.  
As much as Altair hated to admit it, Robert would have caught up with him easily and killed him in a matter of seconds.

He looked up at the sky and noticed a large scaffold being held up by a thin rope above his head. His eyes traced the rope down to the edge of a wall opposite the one he was resting against.  
He smirked.  
Robert took notice.

"And _what_, dare I ask, is so amusing to you, assassin?" the Templar shouted curiously.

"There are a great many things that amuse me, Robert," Altair said, never dropping his smirk, "It amuses me how you Templars obtain your followers through fear and corruption, and how easily you can control them as if they were dolls."

"It is quite an easy skill to master," Robert answered with a laugh, "You just have to know the right words."

Suddenly, the Templar Knight took a few steps closer to Altair, who was breathing heavily against the wall.

"And since you won't live long enough to tell anyone this, I'll let you in on _another_ little secret," he continued, "The Templars will soon take control of the Holy land and its people! You and your little brotherhood are finished, and it will only be a matter of time before you _and_ your kind fall prey to the Templar order as well!"

"Over my dead body…" Altair spat.

"Well that can be arranged…"

Suddenly, Robert held up his dagger and charged for Altair once more. The assassin luckily dodged the blow, dashing across the other side of the narrow alleyway until he reached the rope. Robert growled as he saw Altair grasp the line. He continued to stare as the assassin raised his sword above the rope line.

"Tell me," he said, "What is your name, assassin?"

"Altair ibn La-Ahad," he replied, "Make sure you remember it when I place this sword across your throat."

Suddenly, the Templar gave an ominous laugh.

"It will take an angel to save _you_, you damned assassin!" he said as he drew his dagger again.

But suddenly, Altair gave a quick whack against the rope with his sword. Shocked, Robert followed the rope to the scaffold, which was now placed high above his _own_ head, and barely had enough time to roll out of the way before the entire structure collapsed on the ground. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Altair flying through the air, as if he was an eagle, pulling him up high enough to reach the edge of the building. The assassin struggled for a moment, but managed to climb over the edge and make a dash from the scene.

Fortunately, Robert decided not to take chase.  
He stood there and chuckled, "Surely you are someone worth running into again, Altair. However, unfortunately for you, we won't have any more running-ins due to the poison in your back… You were quite interesting…"

With that, he returned to his (literally) fallen men. The lot of them were still toppled over one another, but there were a few who managed to escape the "rubble."

"Robert sir!" shouted a rather large Templar, rushing towards his commander, "Did you manage to kill that wretched assassin?"

He smiled, "In a way, yes. But I also let him scurry home to his master with his tail between his legs. He'll be dead soon enough though…"

Again, Robert gave an iniquitous chuckle at his evil handiwork.

—

Altair slowly limped the rest of the way back to the Assassin's Bureau. He could feel the pain on his back spreading like wildfire, gnawing at his wounded flesh like a ravenous animal. His breath became heavy and painful with each step he took.

'I have to get rid of this pain,' he thought, '... then...I can focus on finding Malik...'

As he neared the Bureau, he began to hear noises. At first, it sounded like shouts, then it changed to, what sounded like, a crashing noise.  
And already, Altair's face grimaced at the thought…

"Altira…" he growled, "First, I'll have to kill you as soon as I get there…"

* * *

**DT: And yes, this chapter took me freakin forever to do, mainly because I like to be descriptive, and music usually helps me, and sometimes I get bored or carried away and so I never get a chance to finish it... but HOPEFULLY I'll have my chapters edited and finished before February 2011. THAT'S THE GOAL, PEOPLE!**


	9. Expecting the Unexpected Pt 3

The hours slowly dragged on through the day as the Bureau Leader stared long and hard at Altira. The fox thief stared back just as harshly, trying to think of a way to escape. But no matter how hard she thought, the ideas left as quickly as they came. She couldn't grasp even the simplest of ideas to help her escape without seeing them all end in failure. The Rafiq stood too far away from her, and yet was too close to a nearby weapon—should she try anything strange.  
She stared at the man a bit longer before turning her attention towards the opening in the wall which led to the room she was in previously.

The Rafiq took notice, "You aren't _really_ thinking of trying to escape, are you?" he asked half-concerned.

"And what will you do if I am? Kill me?" Altira challenged.

"I would want nothing more than to kill you myself," the Rafiq answered, "But Altair was the one who captured you, so therefore, he should be the one to do it."

"Is _that_ what he told you?" The thief's tone grew very sarcastic, "Well, it seems that he failed to mention how his idiotic fool of a companion stepped in to prevent me from dealing the final blow to his head! _Altair_ would've been dead by now if it weren't for the other assassin! What was his name...? Malik? I shall have to return the favor for his untimely interruption…"

"If you want to continue living this short amount of time you have left, I advise you to stay your tongue," the Rafiq hissed, "Otherwise, I will not stop in quickening your demise myself!"

"Death has no hold on me."

"It will once _I_ get through with you!"

"_Oh will it, now_?" Altira's voice became harsh and sarcastic, "Well then I'm curious: were you thinking of using the same poisons I stole from you to kill me?"

"Hmph! Petulant child! There are too many poisons stolen by you to choose from! However, there _are_ some stolen ones that are rather peculiar to me…"

She eyed down the Rafiq as she continued to fidget with her bound limbs. He stared back at her just as fiercely before moving over to a shelf full of medicines and poisons. Slowly, the thief's glare became more curious as she watched the Rafiq collect two bottles from the shelf. He sat them down on his counter and returned his gaze to the thief.

"A lot more has been stolen from me by _your hands_," he sneered, "But the two here have piqued my interest somewhat."

He looked back at the bottles, picking up each one to examine them. Altira glanced at the small bottles and immediately recognized them, even from that distance away.

"'Oleander poison,'" he read, "mixed with oleander leaves and juice from the English Yew berries, causing paralysis and eventually death." He picked up the other bottle. "'Blood medicine,'" he said, "mixed with Yarrow plants and Butterfly Weeds, stopping the flow of blood from wounds and assisting a person's breathing. So strong, it can cure even the most ailing of bodies."

Suddenly, his eyes shot back at the thief.

"Now _what_, may I ask, does a thief like you want with items such as these?"

Altira turned away and stared at the floor.

"My business is none of your concern." She said.

"Oh, that is where you are wrong, young ta'lab," the Rafiq replied, "These medicines are required of my master, and he would be most displeased should even one of them go missing…"

"And you would rather heal your soldiers instead of those who are in desperate need of treatment in this city?" the thief shot back, "You men and your wars! You'll do anything to keep fighting each other!"

"We fight these wars in order to bring peace to these cities." The Rafiq countered, "How can you not see that—"

"To _hell_ with your wars!" Altira shouted, "All you want is more bloodshed, to kill for pleasure! Well, I am out there risking my life to help the sick and needy, and I'll hurt anyone who stands in my way!"

"What a strange child you are…"

"Only those without a Black Heart can understand what it is that I do." She retorted.

That put an end to their small conversation for the time being, as Altira returned directly to trying to free her bound hands and feet. As she struggled, she looked around for any kind of tool that could help her escape.  
Sadly, she couldn't find anything useful or nearby for her to use. She thought, perhaps, if her feet were free, she could easily run over to the spear at the corner of the room, kill the Rafiq and escape… or maybe she could use the exquisitely fine blade that rested along the wall behind her; but unfortunately, with her feet bound like this, she could only move so far.  
And even though she hated to admit it, the Rafiq could easily stop her and, if necessary, kill her. Even the weapons scattered across the floor were useless to her. The Rafiq was already watching her every move.  
How could he not when the person who had robbed his shop was sitting right there in front of him?

Out of frustration, she violently swung her bound feet towards a rather large crate full of weapons. At this point, it was all her feet were good for: kicking crates and getting more unnecessary attention from the Bureau Leader.

"What are you doing?" he snapped suddenly, "_**Stop that!**_"

The thief glanced back towards the man's face. It was full of shock and worry that made the thief squint her eyes. Being curious, she struck the crate again, this time, a bit harder as she studied the Rafiq's face for some kind of reaction, _any_ reaction. He flinched and gasped a little as he clenched his fist threateningly at her.

"**Wench!**" he shouted, "I said _stop that_!"

She pulled her feet back a little and smirked.

"Do you have _any_ idea what that is you're kicking?" he shouted, "Those are—"

There was no time for him to even try and explain when she kicked the crate a third time, breaking some of the boarded planks in the process. With one swift motion, he rushed towards the crate, fearing any permanent damage to his property. Altira then quickly aligned herself with the crate and the Bureau Leader. Once he came close enough, she gave the box a great big shove as it slid across the floor. Not noticing the box, the Rafiq was caught off guard as it knocked him off of his feet. He let out a small shout as he fell, face-first, to the ground with a loud bang. While in pain, the Rafiq struggled to raise his head, his eyes going wide with shock as they watched two well bounded feet swinging straight for his face!  
With the Rafiq unconscious, Altira dragged her body across the floor over to the damaged crate. She then slid her bound hands across the severed edges of the crate until her wrists came free. She let out a sigh of relief as she felt the flow of blood returning to her hands. She flexed her fingers roughly, trying to get out as much numbness as she could, before her eyes noticed something strange about her hands.  
Upon them were tightly woven pieces of cloth, tied across the once gaping wound in the palm of her hand from her first violent encounter with Altair. She squinted her eyes and stared at it with disdain.

"It is as if a novice tried to help me…" she mumbled, picking up a nearby blade and cutting away the rope from her feet.

Suddenly, a strange noise picked up from the other room. Frantically, the thief stood up and rushed for the other room, only to stop dead in her tracks with fear in her eyes as she stared at the roof.  
The large piece of board covering the opening space was now moving about wildly, letting small portions of sunlight shine through.

"Dammit!" Altira cursed quietly to herself, "He's already here!"

Without wasting any time, she rushed towards the huge mound of pillows and quickly hid herself beneath them. Being of a small enough stature, she could easily hide her entire body beneath the large quantity of pillows. As soon as she lay there, the plank flew off from the rooftop, allowing all of the Sun's light to shine through. Its brightness even managed to hurt the thief's eyes for a moment.  
While squinting her eyes profusely, she waited for the assassin to fall through.  
After a few unsettling moments, Altair nearly did fall to the floor as he made his way inside the Bureau. Slowly and steadily, the assassin rose up like a warrior, but then proceeded to limp like a victim. Altira sat there in silence, watching him drag his stiff legs across the floor. She could hear his painful groaning with each step he took as he forced his body to move forward. Once he neared the entrance to the second room, Altira's eyes widened with shock at the sight of his wounded back.

'So _that_ is what is causing him so much pain…' she thought to herself.  
The back of his assassin's uniform was torn and dirty, as if he were trapped fighting off an entire Saracen army. The wide cut across the center of his back looked deep, with the rich, full red color staining his tunic. Altira could hardly imagine what kind of pain he was in, as she listened to his heavy breathing, struggling to move as he limped closer to the other room.

Suddenly, he stopped and looked up.  
Confused, Altira pulled herself farther into the mound of pillows. She eyed the assassin as he tried to gather up whatever strength he had left in him to dash into the other room.

"What's this?" his tired voice reached her ears, "Rafiq! Wake up! What has happened?"

Slowly and quietly, Altira came out from her hiding place and began to creep past Altair. She gave a quick glance at the assassin and his fatal-looking wound before averting her gaze to the oddly shaped fountain along the wall. Slowly, she took a few steps across the floor, being as silent as ever, trying to reach her destination. She could hear the assassin shaking the Rafiq, trying to wake him up, but she paid it no mind. Unfortunately, she didn't notice that as Altair fell through the roof, he had dropped a few of his throwing knives as well.  
And with her eyes locked on the fountain straight ahead of her, she hadn't noticed her feet accidentally kicking one of them across the floor.  
She nearly gasped at the scraping noise it made as the knife slid all the way to the corner of the wall, near the fountain. She flinched at the loud _**clang**_ noise it made once making contact with the wall. Slowly, she turned her head around to see if the assassin heard it too.

And sure enough, Altair did.

Altira swallowed hard as she stared at the hidden features of his face. She could feel his tension and anger as he took a few steps toward her.  
In response, she took a few steps back.  
And he took a few _more_ steps forward.  
She turned around completely, climbing up the fountain wall.

Altair flexed his right hand, revealing his Hidden Blade, and ran straight for her. Despite the immense pain he was in, the assassin gathered up as much strength as he could and managed to catch the thief by her hair. Violently, he yanked her down to the ground, being rewarded with her scream. The fox thief nearly bashed her head on the floor, but managed to catch herself with her elbows. She tried to sit herself up, but was pushed back down on the ground with one of Altair's hands on her shoulder, as the other tried to mash her skull in with the Hidden Blade.  
She managed to stop the sudden impact with her free hand, but the blade continued to come closer to her face! Growing annoyed, Altair used his other hand to try and pry off the thief's hand from his Hidden Blade, but Altira used her other hand and managed to lock her fingers with his in order to pull them away from her. It proved difficult due to the stiffness in her hands from the poorly wrapped bandages, but she wasn't giving up without a fight!

Both the thief and the assassin's arms were slowly growing unsteady as Altair leaned further in. Altira struggled to keep his blade at a safe distance as his face drew closer to hers.

"Give up now while you can!" he growled.

"Not a chance!" she replied, "You're not going to get the best of me!"

The sight of Altair's smirk made Altira bare her teeth ominously. But suddenly, her demeanor changed once she caught sight of his face, no longer hidden beneath the shadows. She hadn't noticed how soft his eyes looked in the light. He seemed kind and thoughtful, as opposed to only seeing his rugged jaw line, which made him look fierce and violent.  
Those eyes were completely opposite from what she was used to… it was as if she could see right through him to his heart, empty of any darkness…

She blinked her eyes several times when she felt the cold blade touch her face. Remembering her situation, Altira arched up her feet and kicked the assassin off of her. As he staggered, she quickly recovered and stood back up. The assassin was still staggering, so Altira took this to her advantage and charged straight for him, slamming his body hard into the wall. The collision of his back against the wall, made Altair groan loudly in pain. Slowly, his body dragged back down to the floor as Altira took a few steps away from him. Shockingly, the assassin gathered up his strength again and began to stand up once more, taking small steps towards the thief. Altira growled as she backed away to the other side of the wall.

Altair took another step closer to her,  
then another,  
and another,  
and then he finally collapsed to the floor breathing hard and heavy, unable to push his weight up off the floor.

Taking advantage of the opportunity again, Altira ran to the fountain and climbed it, not daring to take a second look back again.

Altair tried to stand up, but he soon crippled back to the floor in pain once more. He growled heavily to keep himself from screaming in pain.

"Damn you, Robert…" he cursed under his breath as he tried to stand up, but failed yet again. "What the hell… is this _pain_?" Growing frustrated, he dug his fingers into the stone ground until they curled over into a tightly clenched fist. After a few more deep breaths, he pulled himself together and slowly began to rise.

"I may have failed in a rescue…" he said, "But I will **NOT** fail in an assassination!"

And with those words, he forced himself up completely, climbed the wall with haste, and made chase after the rogue thief.


	10. No Black Heart

**DT: Alright! I made it to chapter 10: "No Black Heart"! This is SO AWESOME!! Plus, I changed the story to a horror romance because mystery usually goes hand in hand with horror, and there's a lot more horror than mystery here! (this might get me more viewers for my story too! I'm so smart, HEE-HEE!) I put a lot of detail into this chapter, cuz I'm tired of giving you half-ass ones. If I really take the time to do this, my chapters come out GREAT! I know it's EXCRUCIATINGLY long, but just stick with it! Something really cool happens in the end! Now, enough talking, let's start READING!**

* * *

In the middle of the Mosque Courtyard, residents flourished in its colorful streets. The clutter of murmurs and the tenacious bickering and shouting back and forth had meshed into one full noise.  
In the distance, a young girl, with even _more_ vibrant clothing, crept easily inside the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

No one saw a thing.

Altira walked in a cautious manner, leering at _every_ person in _every _place in _every _corner.  
She knew that the assassin was still after her; and even though she had easily blended in with this crowd of rambunctious people, she knew he would have no trouble picking her out and killing her. The clothes she wore would easily blow her cover.  
She had to be on her toes.  
She had to be ready for the worst.

But the worst hadn't come.  
Or at least... not yet...

With a long glance to the left, she saw a small group of scholars walking towards the thicket of the crowd. Their heads were bent down in a holy manner, their hands folded in constant prayer.  
Altira never liked the scholars. She never was much of a religious person. She eyed down the anti-promiscuous group of white-cloaked men as her large and safe crowd suddenly dispersed to give the scholars more room to walk and pray.  
But something about those scholars made Altira feel _very_ uneasy.

Usually, there would be four to a group...

But this one had five,

all of them dressed in white,

still praying to their beloved god Allah.

The slow moving group of scholars was passing right down the middle of the crowd. And for some unknown reason, they seemed to be walking straight towards the thief--believing she would move like the rest of them.  
And she did.  
She followed behind an extremely dark-skinned man, his hairless head shining brightly against the sun's moderate rays.

Altira still couldn't stop staring at the one scholar in the middle of the group. He seemed much too tall to be a scholar.  
But then it hit her.  
Right there, on his side!  
She saw red and stained marks on his clothes that looked like thick blood.

**'It's HIM! The assassin!'** Altira thought.

She tried to back away and squeeze her way past the crowd, but she drew too much attention to herself as all of the "scholars" raised their heads in confusion and wonder. Altira eyed the assassin as he stretched his hand around his hip where the tattered remains of his outfit lay... _as well as his sword!_

A quick grab of the weapon made the people point and stare, but once the sword was out and high above his head, the people began to scream and scatter, giving Altira enough room to move around and get out of the way before Altair had any chance of swinging his sword on top of her head. He had only managed to give a small slit on her exposed arm.

She pushed an abundance of people out of her way, clenching on her arm, as the lightning fast assassin nearly stepped on her heels. Finally, Altair had grabbed her by those very same heels, causing her to trip and fall--much like the Rafiq back at the Bureau. Altira quickly recovered, but only to the point where she could sit up on the hard, dusty ground, as the enraged assassin picked her up by the throat. She gagged from his sudden, menacing attack. Her hands were wildly clinging to his arm, squeezing and hitting it to make him let go, but it was of no avail.

He pushed her hard against the weak, decaying rails that bordered the drop leading down to the river below.  
They both heard it crack and shake.  
Altira could see the new crowd of intimidated people staring in wonder from behind.  
Altair didn't seem to care! So long as they did not interfere, he didn't care _what _they did! His hand trembled as he held the girl with his fingers. His breath was heavy, as if he had been running after her for hours.

The poison was starting to spread heavily in his back.

People crowded behind him from afar to see the grave markings on his back. Even a Saracen guard or two had showed up to see what the commotion was about... but they did nothing to resolve the situation.

Altair clenched the sword in his hand very tightly. "Although you deserve to die **painfully slow**..." Altair began in an exasperated voice, "I am in no condition to cause you much pain."  
Again, he squeezed her neck tighter. Altira was beginning to pass out beneath his grasp and was barely able to hear what he was saying to her. Still, her hands never dropped from his arm. There was still some fight left in her, but it was waning fast.  
Altair gave her a half-smile. "You'll just have to die by--"

"Pardon me, but do you _honestly_ think that you can just grab on a woman like that?" came a strange voice from behind.

The minute Altair turned around, an unusually large fist collided with his face, forcing him to let go of Altira immediately and fall face-flat onto the ground.  
The thief breathed heavily, gently brushing her neck with her fingers. While resting an elbow on the poorly built rails, he looked at the person responsible for delivering the blow to the assassin's head. He was unusually tall, and unusually fat. His gut hung over his low belt in an unusual manner. The bulging fat had blended unevenly with what little muscle he had in his body, but its power and effectiveness proved to be very useful when things got tough. His hair had cried out to the world for a decent trim, because it wholly covered his face, from the top of his head, to the sides of his face, and from under his nose down.

Altira gave him a wide and friendly smile.

"I thank you, Bajr'ah" she shouted before she glared at Altair as he began to slowly sit up from the sudden punch.  
The man known as Bajr'ah bowed his head in respect to the thief and gave her a hearty, unusual smile.

"You must go," he said with unusual kindness in his voice, "Your friend Allaj awaits your return at the far end of the bazaar."

Altira gave him a quick nod. His unusually thick and friendly accent made her smile again.

To the people's surprise, she stepped onto the decaying rails that bordered the tiny river and then jumped off. Several people gasped at the her sudden feat, while others ran up to the rails. To their wonder and amazement, they witnessed the girl balancing herself atop the small, thin, vertical post that rested in the middle of the canal! They saw her dart away by hopping across more vertical posts residing in the water until she made it to the other side.  
Using its exposed, uneven ledges, Altira climbed up the bordering wall and continued running through the tight streets of Damscus.  
She did it all with much ease.

By the time she had left, Altair staggered to his feet again, swaying a bit to the side due to the lingering pain on his back. Bajr'ah gave him a fierce look, but the assassin wasn't the least bit intimidated. Altair glanced at the akward path she took to escape and gritted his teeth sharply.

Then he looked at the large men with an even fiercer look.  
"Bastard..." Altair growled, "Why did you get in my way? That girl was of no importance to you!"

"In the name of my late Merchant King, Mehmet Aminath, I'll kill _**all**_ of you hassassins!" shouted Bajr'ah, ignoring everything Altair had just said.

"And there's that name again..." he mumbled to himself.

Suddenly, the Saracen guards took a greater interest in their little dispute. They were quite informed about the recent intrusions of assassins in the city of Damascus. One of the guards was so bold to pull out his blade, just in case their argument got a bit out of hand...

Bajr'ah wasn't at all startled by the guard's sudden gestures to his sword, but the people surrounding the area were. Again, the people scattered in terrible fright. The Saracen guards moved in closer, but they kept their distance from Altair. Bajr'ah armed himself with his fists, ready to fight the assassin, but the white-cloaked man was hardly interested in this pointless confrontation.

At that moment, Altair thought to himself, 'Do I let the guards live and cause more trouble for me later on while this wretched thief escapes... or do I chase after her, kill her, and then deal with them at a more appropriate time?'

It didn't take long for him to make a decision.

With his own sword already out and exposed in the open, Altair turned to face the two Saracen guards who began to eye him down with great suspicion. He ran up to one of them and sliced him right across the neck. The blood had spewed out and splattered all over Altair's chest. A trickle of blood landed on the cheek of the second Saracen, which caused him to shout and run in panic. Altair looked at the man with no remorse in his eyes as he pulled out a throwing knife and flung it right into his throat.  
His screaming soon turned to stifled gagging as he hit the ground with a grumbled thud. It didn't take long before the perfect pool of blood circled his head in broad daylight.

'Worthless, ignorant fools...' Altair thought to himself.

Suddenly, he heard deranged shouts from Bajr'ah as he charged straight for the assassin. Altair easily dodged out of the way as he watched the clumsy man fall gut first to the ground. Bajr'ah staggered at first, breathing heavily, before he sat himself upright on the floor. He had expected the assassin to place a blade before his throat, sorely witnessing his near demise, but Altair had already dashed for the river below. And just as Altira did, he jumped easily across the water's posts and reached the other side.  
From afar, Bajr'ah witnessed this.  
He then released a huge sigh of relief, as if a raging storm had finally passed over.

"I hope I gave you enough time, M'lady." he muttered under his breath while struggling to stand up.

Bajr'ah then looked back at the freshly killed guards (an utterly grotesque display). The courageous citizen knew that this area was no longer safe and that he needed to leave quickly.

--

Altira had been moving faster than ever! There wasn't a moment's rest where she stopped or even slowed down! There was only one goal that kept flashing in her mind: get away from the assassin. But when the crowds leading to the bazaar got too thick, she had no choice but to slow down.  
She was frantic.  
Everytime she got away from the assassin in one situation, there he was again, hellbent on trying to kill her. There was simply no way to avoid him... unless she found her master.

The crowds moved slower and slower as Altira reached the bazaar's entrance, but as soon as she reached it, the crowds stopped. Now growing even more cautious, the thief looked around the area to see what was going on.

'I **do _not_** have time for this!' she thought angrily to herself, 'Why has everyone stopped? This doesn't make any sense!'  
But then, in an instant, it came to her. Today was the day where everything came at a cheap price. Today was the day when everyone from far and wide came to buy up everything.

Today was Saturday, one of the greatest and busiest days in the bazaar.

This meant that finding her master would prove even more difficult than she had anticipated.

'Today of all days...' she whined.

Altira then pushed several people out of her way, ignoring the sly remarks from the women and the obsene remarks from the men. She rushed for the ledge of a wall against the bazaar's entrance, climbed it, and then jumped for a horizontal post. The people (not far) from below stared at her in astonishment. She rolled her eyes, but then suddenly blinked with fright when an awkward thud reached her ears. The people too gasped in shock at the noise. She slowly turned to the side and saw a knife had been thrown deep into the wall, barely missing her neck.  
Altira then shunt her body in the direction where the blade was thrown and witnessed the white-robed assassin pulling out another knife to throw at her!!  
As he pulled out the knife, Altair pushed and shoved as many people as he could out of his way. He then threw the knife as hard as he could, but he missed again as Altira ran deeper into the bazaar. Without hesitation, the assassin jumped atop the same ledge and gave chase after her.

The sight of the people from below was innumerous and dangerously crowded. Altira hopped from posts and swung from poles to try and keep some distance between her and the assassin, but she was exhausted from all of this running and she lacked enough stamina to _keep _running endlessly!  
Altair was coming in closer.  
The people below looked up and saw them running to and fro on the posts, scaffolds, and poles. They thought it was silly and beautiful; although they had no idea why they were doing that, it grabbed their attention.

"Last one..." Altair mumbled to himself as he pulled out his final knife from his shoulder pocket.

It took a long while before he gave himself a chance to throw it at her. Despite the fact that Altira was exhausted, she still proved difficult to get close enough and have a good throwing shot... but as soon as he found an opening, he took it.  
As Altira leapt for a small candelabra (the chandelier look-alikes placed in enclosed areas), she felt the twinging pain of the assassin's knife cutting past her arm.  
She gave a quick shout.  
It wasn't deep, but the pain lingered.

Altair was more preoccupied with her stopping and clenching her arm in pain. He jumped onto the same candelabra as her and pulled out his sword. the candles' lights shook as Altair moved closer to the thief. Altira found herself holding onto the wire in order to keep herself from falling. She could hear the people down below screaming and shouting at the sight of Altair's sword.

They both stared at each other, squint-eyed and tired. They were both breathing heavily at the sight of each other. The pain in Altair's back had not left him. In fact, it had gotten worse with each and every step he took to reach this moment.  
Altira had been running from the start. She forced herself to think out her movements, even though she was never given any time to do so. And now, she found herself in the worst predicament possible!  
While still clenching her arm, she tried to move around on the candelabra and get away from Altair. She gave out another quick shout as he grabbed her injured arm and yanked her closer to him. His body slightly wavered from side to side as he stared at the girl. Altira tried to throw one last kick at the assassin, but he tripped her and made her fall hard onto the candelabra on her back. The uneven feeling of the structure proved to be most irritable, but what had annoyed her the most was seeing Altair's evil little smile.

"Let's see you get out of this one..." he chuckled.

"I am not afraid to die," Altira shouted, "If this is my last time alive... so be it!"

'She speaks like a true assassin...' Altair thought, 'But she is no brother of mine!'

And with that, he raised his sword, ready to **_finally_** complete his kill. "It was fun while it lasted," he said to her.  
All she did was simper.

But suddenly, he stopped. He heard the sound of the rope, holding up the candelabra, give way to their weight. Altira heard it too.

The assassin rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

'Why must something like this happen _every _time?' he thought impatiently to himself.

He thought that he could strike the girl quickly before the candelabra could fall, but it was already too late.  
Before he could even _touch _Altira, the entire structure fell to the ground with a metallic clang. Luckily, the civilians were smart enough to stand _around _the candelabra before it fell, instead of being directly underneath it, so no one else had gotten hurt. Still, the people shouted and screamed at such a sight. Altira got up quickly and tried to flee the scene, but Altair had enough strength to follow after her. While groaning in frustration, he managed to catch up with her again. He then grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall, hard.

"Alright, no more running away!" he shouted with much annoyance in his tone, "You _will _die and you _will_ suffer through it!"

But nothing more could be done once he felt a cold and hard blade touch the side if his throat.

"No, what _you _will do is stay your weapon from my child," came a man from behind him.

Altira's face lit up instantly and she smiled. 'Al Ueralaj!' she thought curiously, 'You are here...'  
Suddenly, her smile soon faded away as she saw the heartless look on her master's face. Intimidation consumed her as she let Ueralaj take over the situation.

"Stay your weapon, boy!" he repeated.

Altair lowered his weapon, but not by much. His teeth clenched from the wild pain in his back as he leaned forward near Altira's face.  
He didn't say a word. He leaned closer and closer to the girl's face until he moved past it and laid his head on the wall. As this went on, Ueralaj kept his sword close to the assassin's neck so as to make sure he didn't try to pull a fast one on either him or Altira. The thief felt the man's body go limp as she held him up to prevent him from falling over.

"He's unconscious." she told her master, glaring at the assassin's blood-darkened back.

Al Ueralaj's stern face looked at Altair's limp body with much scorn. His ears were filled with the screams and shouts of the civilians running to and fro in the bazaar.

And then he looked at Altira.

"Leave him." he commanded coldly.

He started to walk away, expecting his thief to do as he commanded. He turned back around to find Altira still standing against the wall, still clutching onto the limp body of the assassin.

"**Come!**" he shouted more fiercely.

Again, she did not move from her spot. Her eyes were fixed on the assassin's bloody back. Ueralaj shook his head in disbelief as he put his sword away.

"What on earth is _wrong_ with you, child?" he said concerned, the coldness in his voice never leaving, " How can you even _think _about helping someone who has sought to kill you for so long?"

"Because I have no black heart!" she retorted.

Her master arched his eyebrows curiously at the words, "No Black Heart." He knew how very little her bitterness was, butcomparing it to a "Black Heart" was a bit much. He even wanted to chuckle a bit, but the nearby guards investigating the destruction of the candelabra site prevented him from doing so.

"Alright," he said emotionlessly, "Bring him. But he is in _your_ care and _your _care alone!"

Altira gave him a sly smile as Al Ueralaj helped her carry the large man back to their place of residence. As the screaming died down, the last thing they heard was the shouts of the nearby guards, demanding someone to come out and confess to having destroyed the candelabra.

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**DT: OMIGOD THAT TOOK ME THE ENTIRE SUMMER TO DO!! Really, it shouldn't have, but whatever. (Rockband's too good to put down. hehehe...) So anyways, yeah, I made Altira look like a much more weaker person in this chapter, but give her some slack, she ran around too much so OF COURSE she's gonna be exhausted! I hope you like this chapter cause I put WAY too much frickin' details in it. I was tryin' to follow some good advice and I guess it worked out okay. Plus, can somebody ask for a Rockband category? That would be AWESOME to find some Rockband stories on here (too bad they're mixed with Naruto and Bleach...)**


	11. A Living Reason

**DT: Heya. Sorry for my sudden "disappearance" last year. I had the worst case of writer's block EVER for this particular story. Luckily, I got Assassin's Creed 2 for Christmas and it is just AWESOME! I'm not too far in the game, but it's gotten me back to figuring out different ways to go about my Assassin's Creed story. Pray that you see more chapters after this one cuz thinking out these stories takes FOREVER!**

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The walk home took longer than expected. A different route had to be taken due to the outrageous scattering of people in the bazaar, as well as the burden of having to carry the unconscious assassin back with them. Altair's feet dragged motionlessly across the ground while the remainder of his body rested on Altira's shoulder. As they walked, she had not dared to speak with Al Ueralaj for fear of being scolded for this mess... and truly this was an awful mess of things. Luckily, her master stepped in to break the long and tedious silence.

"I take it that giving back the assassin's Hidden Blade was no easy task?" he joked.

"Hidden Blade?" Altira asked confused, "You mean this deadly contraption?" She pointed to Altair's left hand as her master nodded in agreement. "After the day I've had, I want to _destroy _it, not give it back!"

"If you do so, he will be relentless in trying to kill you..."

"I think he already _is_, master!" she said seriously.

"Ah, so then why keep him alive?" he asked curiously.

Altira did not have an answer for that. The injury on Altair's back mesmerized her entirely. She knew that if he stayed untreated, he would surely die, but just leaving him to die felt more unbearable than keeping him alive.

"And I also see that you took the time to fix your _own_ injury." Ueralaj continued.

Having completely forgotten about her cuts, she glanced back at her hands. The tightly woven cloth slightly showed a red color beneath its cloth, but the pain had mostly gone away.

"I didn't do this..." she replied, "The assassin did."

"Oh, so is _that_ the reason why you wish to help this man?" asked Ueralaj, a bit surprised.

"Of course not!" Altira snapped, "And even if it was, he wrapped my wound in a poor manner!"

"So will you tend to him poorly as well?"

Altira became hesitant in her reply as she glanced at his reddened back.

"No," she muttered finally, "I won't be as cruel as he was with me."

Ueralaj looked at her for a while, not saying anything, before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. Altira noticed this and stared at him with a concerned look in her eyes.

"What?" she said, "What is it?"

Getting no verbal response in return, she looked out in his direction, to the right of them, and laid eyes on the crowd of Templars, standing right outside the main gate. Wide-eyed, she quickly glanced back at her master again, not knowing what they should do. Ueralaj saw the worried look in her face, so he pushed her in a nearby alcove with the unconscious assassin. He then raced across the other side and peered out along the wall of a building to see what the Templars were doing.  
While placing Altair off to the side, Altira glanced back at the Templars as well. She gasped in shock once she laid her eyes on a rather familiar face beneath the huddled group.

'That's...' she thought, 'That's his friend... the one that was in trouble from before... what was his name... Malik?'

Indeed, it was Malik, a prisoner of the Knights Templar. His hands were wound tight together with rope, while his feet clanked in heavy, metal shackles. The rope around his hands had also been tied to the side of the saddle on one of the horses. Despite this, brave Malik still yanked at the rope trying to get himself free.  
Suddenly, the man atop the horse dropped off and walked towards the assassin. Altira had never seen this man before, but she could tell that he possessed some higher role in this group of Knights Templar, with his eccentric-looking helmet and slightly French accent when he spoke.

"It is useless, assassin," he began, "You can't hope to escape and continue placing fear in the hearts of these people."

"It is _you_ who puts fear in their hearts! Not I!" retorted Malik aggressively, "The assassins are here to put a stop to you and your treacherous ways!!"

The highly ranked Templar laughed in his face. And a few others joined in.

"Fool!" he continued just as aggressively, "It is your few assassin brethren who have come to help me!"

With that, another assassin, the same one that led Altair away, came out from behind the other Templars. Shocked and appalled, Malik glared at him resentfully. Altira shared in his disgust.

"Surprised to see me, **_brother_**?" the traitor said.

"How **_DARE _**you call me a brother, you traitorous animal!" Malik shouted.

"Oh come now," he responded coolly, "It is _you_ and Al Mualim who are the traitors of God and mankind. The Templars are the only true warriors of this era!"

"You are as ignorant as you are blind! And I hope you die for it!"

"Perhaps another day, comrade. In place of _your _ignorance, Altair has met a fitting end."

"What? Don't insult me with lies now, traitor!"

Suddenly, the high knight stepped in, "On the contrary, assassin, it is true. Your friend, this so-called 'Altair,' has been vanquished by my hands."

Malik dropped to his knees on the ground, looking away from the two despicable people.

"It isn't true," he kept telling himself, "I won't believe it!"

Hearing this, Altira glanced back at Altair, lying peacefully on the floor. His breathing looked calm as he lay on his stomach--she couldn't place him on his injured side, lest it get infected faster. Altira found herself glaring back between the unconscious man, the prisoner, and the traitor all throughout the heated conversation. It picked back up when another Templar soldier intervened to speak with the high ranked Templar.

"Robert, sir!" the soldier began, "Word has spread that William of Montferrat requests your presence in Acre!"

The Templar now known as Robert placed two fingers on his chin.

"C'est bon," he said, "Once in Acre, this assassin can be dropped off at my dear friend Garnier de Naplouse's Hospitalier before we reach William."

Robert glanced back at the assassin on his knees, depressed upon hearing the news of his slain friend, before climbing back on top of his horse and leading his men outside of the city of Damascus and out to the Kingdom. The traitorous assassin turned and left to attend to matters unknown to the eavesdroppers.

When the event had finally passed, Al Ueralaj rejoined with Altira and the unconscious assassin.

"I sense great danger for that man..." he said, still looking out in the direction of the now distant Templars.

"Now I have no choice but to keep Altair alive..." remarked Altira, still eyeing the unconscious assassin.

"Altair?" Ueralaj asked puzzled, looking at the assassin as well.

Altira nodded her head. "The reason why he must live is because he must rescue his assassin comrade."

'And somehow, this mess is **_both_** our faults' she pondered...

* * *

**DT: So there's the next chapter for ya. Sorry it isn't very long and sorry it kinda leaves you hanging again, but this story is hard to figure out. hahaha. But don't worry I'll try to make another one "soon." (And by "soon," I mean, "In-less-than-a-year-from-now." lol**


	12. Lacking Trust

**DT: So now my story FINALLY continues...**

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"State the three tenets," came the voice of Al Mualim, "First and foremost..."

"Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent." replied Altair.

"**Wrong!**" Al Mualim replied sharply.

"What do you mean it's wrong?" said Altair in great confusion, "That's what you've taught me all these years!"

"Assassins must kill wrecklessly in order to gain what is theirs, my student..."

"But that is _not_ our ways!"

"**Wrong again!**" he slashed his sword at Altair's side as he winced in pain.

While looking around, he noticed that his environment was white and empty; blank as far as his eyes could see. All that stood before him was his master, Al Mualim, scolding him for not having "properly" learned one of the three tenets of his creed.

Being out of breath and with a blurry vision, Altair stated, "I have been obedient in all that you've taught me, knowing all that there was to know about the creed... but this is madness and I can't--AAH!"

Al Mualim dug the tip of his sword further into his side as he tried to hold back an unbearable scream.  
From the very moment upon discovering this realm, Altair wondered why he couldn't move.  
His hands were free and eaglespread outwards.  
His feet were free and stood firmly in place.  
But then why was he just standing there, letting his master slice through his flesh?

Altair struggled to move his neck to watch Al Mualim slowly rotate the sword into his side, the blood leaking out like a punctured dam. As he quickly began to lose consciousness, he managed to hear his master mutter, "Those who do not follow the Creed are nothing more than murderers... **not assassins!**"

When he awoke from the dream, Altair no longer felt the prolonged pain against his side.  
Along his back, the pain subsided as well.  
But in contrast to his bright and white environment from before, this area resembled a hellish, black darkness where sight was unwelcome.

Now being fully awake and alert, he tried to catch a glimpse of something, _anything_, that could serve as a means of escape. Sadly however, the darkness proved too thick. And, just like his dream, both his hands and feet were immobilized.  
He was in a constricted, standing posture, as still as a guard.

"Where am I?" he pondered, eyeing every part of the darkened room.

"I see you are awake now..." came a voice from behind him.

Startled, Altair tried turning his neck to face behind him, but even so, all that was there was more darkness. However, it didn't take him long to identify the person's voice.

"Altira..." he said while gritting his teeth, "You'll regret this..."

"Regret _what_, exactly?" she replied sternly, "Saving you from death? You forget your wounds too quickly, assassin."

"I forget _nothing, _you wench!" he said lowly, "I should have killed you when I first had the chance..."

"But you didn't, and so here I stand!"

Altair said nothing.

Altira continued, "Now, what I am about to tell you, assassin, is both risky, yet informal..."

"...What do you mean?" the assassin asked, pulling at his arms and legs.

"It is informal because, to you, the information is priceless... however, for me, it is risky because I will only tell you on one condition, and _one condition_ only..."

"Which is what?" he demanded.

"Teach me how to use the Hidden Blade."

Altair's muscles grew tense. He clasped his hands into tight fists and gritted his teeth harder.

"How **dare** you insult me with such nonsense," he growled, "Even if you were lying on the street _bleeding,_ I wouldn't teach you its power!"

"Oh that is quite disapppointing to hear," she replied sarcastically, "I guess now you'll never know how to save... oh what does it matter to you now?"

Altair flinched.

"Save who?" he said, "You don't mean--"

"It holds no purpose for you anymore, assassin..."

"Then you must be lying to me, trying to use my concerns to your advantage. Do you honestly expect me to believe that you know how to find--"  
He was cut off by her small, quiet laugh as he felt her hand grab his chin and turn his head to the side.  
As he struggled to move his head, he could hear her taking in a breath of air before whispering, "Yes! I know where Malik is..." in his ear.

When she let go of his face, Altair stared out, directly in front, towards the darkness. "You tell me nothing but lies," he said.

"Do I?" she asked, "Well then who was it that I saw leaving the city of Damascus, tied to the end of a saddle belonging to a Templar named, 'Robert'?"

"Robert de Sable?!" Altair was almost at a shout. "He _does_ have Malik?"

"Oh... but I could have sworn I was telling you nothing but lies..." Altira said, almost swooning her words.

"I **demand** that you tell me where they've taken him!" he shouted.

He was answered with a stinging pain on his right cheek by Altira's hand.

"You are in **no position** to make demands from me!" she said coldly and swiftly, "You are in _my_ territory now, Altair! You follow _my_ demands when **_I see fit_**!"

"You control nothing," he said slyly, chuckling a bit.  
Again, Altira smacked her hand across his face, this time a bit more violently.

"You assassins take nothing seriously!" she snapped, "Do you not care what that bastard Templar does to your friend?"

"It does not matter because your words are false, wench..." he replied.

"She speaks the truth, hassassin." came another nearby voice.

While lifting up his head, Altair witnessed a bright and powerful light shining out in front, through the thick darkness. In front of the light, a tall figure began walking towards him. At first glance, he thought he was staring face to face with his master Al Mualim--his grayish-white beard hanging out from a black, draping tunic-- but when the light dimmed slightly, the man's face was only a small resemblance of his master.  
Despite the similar wear, his cheeks rose a little higher and looked much fuller. The cold and stern face that he had grown used to from Al Mualim also faded from this man, where his eyes were more friendly than fiersome, and his expression more unperturbed than somber. But Altair became a little uneasy as he laid his eyes on the man's friendly smile. To distract himself, he took a moment to stare at the stern (yet beautiful) face of Altira as she glared at the affable man.

"Master Al Ueralaj," Altira stated, "I cannot cope with this man! He is... stubborn."

Altair became uneasy again when he saw the Al Mualim look-alike give off a heartfelt chuckle at her statement.

"Ah, I see." he said, "Well he must be learning those tricks from _you_!"

"Oh be quiet and help me, please!" she said sternly.

Steadily, Altair became more and more uncomfortable with the two of them and their conversation. The tones in their voices and their smart remarks towards one another were all startling to him. He simply could not understand why this man was so lenient towards the character of someone so--

"As I was saying before, hassassin, what my child speaks of is valuable," the master continued, "Should you not take heed of her words, your friend will surely die..."

"Who are you and why should I trust either of you?" Altair said blankly.

With a kind smile, he stated, "I am but a simple leader with many followers. You may call me Al Ueralaj, but here, I am called, 'Allaj.' It has been a sort of... adopted name for me in this place."

"However, _you_ have no choice!" Altira said angrily as she turned to face Altair, "You are to only refer to my master as _Al Ueralaj_!"

"Breathe calmly, Altira," her master said, chuckling again, "The boy can call me whatever he wishes to."

"You're not turning out to be much help at this point......"

"Well how can you expect the boy to trust you if he's tied up like this?"

A short, quiet moment had passed before she answered, "That was an extra precaution. He's dangerous."

"HA! I should think! But in order to gain one's trust, one must become trustworthy, no?"

"...yes..."

"So then let him down."

Altira blinked in great confusion.  
And so did Altair. Despite the bright light in the room, his mind was still shrouded in darkness, unable to understand the man that stood before him.

"Surely you do realize that I have no intention of cooperating with you?" he said, "Once you free me, I _will_ kill you."

Suddenly, Al Ueralaj's face grew a bit more serious as he took a step closer to the restrained assassin.

"_Really_?" he stated, "Are you sure that you would prefer to waste time here instead of going after your friend? I should think that master Al Mualim would be most upset with you..."

Altair flinched again, staring into the man's eyes.

"How do you--?"

"I know everything that there is to know about everyone." Al Ueralaj interrupted, "And I do not appreciate your stubbornness towards my student. Either way, I shall let you down, knowing that you will make the right decision..."

As the master made his way to the peculiar device that restrained the assassin, Altair looked back at Altira, whose face now peered into his own. He saw that her face was not happy, which brought a smile to his _own_ face.


	13. Hiding Weapons

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**DT: Okay, so school is out for the kiddies and I'm about to get really serious with the writing. Hope you like the next chapter. And like I said a million times before, I make this stuff up as I go along with it... and if you don't know, that is REALLY HARD TO DO!**

* * *

Altair walked closely behind Allaj while Altira kept a close eye on him from behind as they walked through the dimly lit hallway. Her master walked slowly through the narrow hall, his long garment draping across the wooden floors as he did so. There was an uneasy silence throughout the hall as well, excluding the sound of their own footsteps gently hitting the floors.

"So this is where you thieves come from..." Altair said boldly, breaking the silence

"**Don't talk!**" shouted Altira.

"Settle down, child, " her master chuckled, "He simply asked us a question and it would be most impolite not to answer."

"Were you not telling me how I should have killed him a while back?" she retorted.

"Hmmm... yes, but now, since you wish that he stay alive, I may as well let him get used to us."

Altira stayed quiet, realizing her own fault. She glared back at Altair who had turned around to smirk at her.

'Perhaps I should play with her a little while longer before killing her,' he pondered.

But the master suddenly stopped in his tracks as they reached a bright and wide opening at the end of the hallway. Altira stepped out in front and Altair followed behind her. His eyes widened at what he saw.

Right in the middle of the room stood the largest fountain he had ever seen (and yes, this was quite a large room). The water spewed forth from numerous tiny spurts, all carved beautifully within the fountain's structure. They were all in the shapes of animals; from pigs, to cats, to even horses! At the bottom of the fountain rested peculiar iron bars that separated a small space between each animal carving. It sort of created a small pool for each fountain piece to pour its own water in. However, what really caught Altair's eye was at the very top of the fountain. A rather large letter "T" rested above all the animal carvings. The edges of the letter were curved in a way that was similar to the letter "A" of the assassins' symbol.

"It stands for 'Truth'" said Altira, noticing how much he stared at the fountain, "It is a symbol for those in search of something far greater than what can simply be found in books."

'I half expected it to stand for 'Thieves,'' he thought as he watched her walk over to the fountain.

She reached for one of the animal pieces, a fox, and slowly turned it clockwise until the figure was completely upside-down. As she did this, the water that spewed from its mouth came to a halt as the water from the base of the fountain suddenly drained. Altair was amazed to find that it revealed a mysterious stairway further inside!

"Come," Altira said not as harsh as before, "Your belongings are in here."

Altair had completely forgotten about his armaments. He hastily followed in after her.  
And just like the hallway from before, the passageway was barely lit. The only way to avoid crashing into anything was to stay right behind Altira. It didn't take long though before they reached a small room cluttered with the most random things. There were books here, clothes there, medicines and poisons on half-broken shelves, small weapons, broken weapons, quills and ink, empty bowls, a wax candle about to go out, and two untidy beds. Strangely enough, Altair caught a glimpse of something neatly placed on top of one of the beds.

"There," said Altira, pointing to the neat stack, "are your belongings."

Quickly, Altair rushed for his things. He checked everything, making sure they weren't tampered with.  
But something was missing...

"What did you do with my Hidden Blade?" he demanded (rather than asked).

She scoffed, "You think I'm a fool? Once you have everything, you will want nothing more than to slit my throat and leave!" She watched him give her a devious smile as she continued: "I'll tell you where it is once I know I can trust you... and judging from the look on your face, that's not going to happen any time soon."

"I don't need your '_permission_' to have my weapons back." He retorted.

Altira crossed her arms and gave him a look that said, "we'll see, " as she turned around to walk back through the passage. Altair's smile faded as he followed behind her.

'Dammit,' he thought, 'It looks like I **_will_** have to play with her a while longer...'

Once they neared the enntrance of the secret passage again, Altair became surprised once more when he saw the heads of two other girls, far younger than Altira herself, peering down the steps. But as quick as he laid eyes on them, their heads drew back. As he and Altira reached the outside of the fountain, he became even more surprised when he saw an entire herd of women, all staring at him.

Altira looked a bit shocked too.

"What is the meaning of this?" she said with an agitated tone, "Why are you all here?"

"So it is true what Allaj told us," said one of the girls, the tallest one, with a rather cold voice, "I knew you wouldn't be able to follow even the _simplest_ of our rules..."  
She then looked over at Altair with an even colder stare.

"Oh be quiet!" Altira snapped, "You know _nothing_ of the circumstances, Faizah, so I advise you not to put your nose where it _doesn't belong_!"

The woman known as Faizah dropped her smile before Altair caught a glimpse of her long and brown, curly locks whipping around her head as she stormed off. With her leaving the front, he could see the rest of the women before him; they all had perfect bodies and perfect faces. Some had long hair while others had short hair, with all kinds of different skin complexions... but he had never imagined that _all_ of them could be so beautiful and gathered in one small place.  
But Altira soon took care of that.  
"And what are the rest of you staring at?" she said, "**_LEAVE!_**"

To Altair's disappointment, the girls immediately scattered to and fro, giggling like small children. He watched them climb up the short walls behind Allaj, only to disappear beneath more secret passageways. Glancing back at Altira, he had noticed quite a fury in her eyes as she folded her arms in impatience. But the reason for this was not from the girls, but from Allaj, who stood there chuckling away.

"I must apologize," he said looking at Altair, "That was not the way I intended for you to see my girls. Though I can assure you that they will cause you no trouble so long as _you_ keep your weapons sheathed."

Altair let out a hoarse laugh. "As if **_they _**could cause harm to **_me_**!" he said.

"Do not underestimate them, hassassin. They are more than what they seem, especially since one of them holds your Hidden Blade..."

"What?" Altair was at a shout. "How dare they!"

"I told you already," Altira interrupted, "You'll get your Hidden Blade back once I know I can trust you." She laughed a bit before continuing, "And judging from the look on your face... that isn't going to happen _any time soon_..."


	14. Disclaimer and Author's Note I guess

**DT: Okay seriously, do I need to do this? You all should know by now that I do not own Assassin's Creed stuff and that AC1, 2, Bloodlines, and the upcoming Brotherhood game are all owned by Ubisoft (or was it Ubisoft Montreal? Oh whatever). The point is, I don't want to get sued for nothing, which I probably wont anyway, but you never know. lol. However, the majority of the storyline and my characters (Excluding Altair, Malik, Al Mualim, Robert de Sable, Garnier de Naplousse, Maria, and all the other characters from the first Assassin's Creed game) are owned by ME! And I will be mighty pissed if you take my character ideas. Sure, you can ASK me if you can use them for your own stuff, but where's the fun in that? lol. Make your own damn love interest characters. Chapters are slow, but they're still coming. And whatever happened to REVIEWS, people? I would like to hear your opinion on my story. What was great? What was lame? What needs to be brought closer together? What needs to be omitted? What sucked? What rocked? How do you want to see altairXaltira brought together? Do you want more blood? More action perhaps? Is it lacking plot twist? These are EXAMPLES, people, see? I need reviews to help me prepare for a story of my OWN creation (all original characters, plot twist, timeline, etc.), and I can't do it without "practive reviews." You get what I mean?**


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